


Broken Glass

by MelJoyAZ



Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Genre: Graphic war violence, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:59:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1477165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelJoyAZ/pseuds/MelJoyAZ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ty & Zane's first full weekend together after Ty's return from deployment</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Glass

" **So take my broken glass, and help me make a window** …" Watching Over Me by Thousand Foot Krutch

Zane stood just inside the open door leading to the backyard, leaning against the frame, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top buttons of his dress shirt before shoving his hands in his pockets, all the while watching Ty. His lover was leaning under the hood of his old Mustang, tinkering with something, his muttered curses made almost inaudible by the hard, throbbing rock music that blared from his iPod docking station, plugged in with an extension cord and sitting on a work table covered with tools, greasy rags…and an open bottle of beer.

Zane’s eyes zeroed in on the bottle, his mouth watering. The beer was obviously freshly opened, condensation beading up and sliding down the bottle to puddle on the table beneath it. Zane was convinced he could smell it from across the yard, that yeasty, beer-y smell, imagining how the tang would hit his tongue as he tilted the bottle to his mouth and let the icy cold beverage slide down his throat…

He shook his head sharply, dispelling the image. To distract himself, Zane traced his gaze over Ty’s lean body, taking in the sweaty t-shirt that was glued to his torso, the soft faded jeans that rode low and clung to his incredible ass and showcased his long legs. His arms and hands were streaked with dirt and grease, and his hair was standing on end. He looked gorgeous: strong, masculine…sexy. 

Yet even Ty’s appeal wasn’t enough to keep Zane’s eyes from straying back to the beer bottle, and as he watched, Ty, as yet unaware of his presence, absently reached for the bottle and lifted it to his mouth, his lips wrapping around the tip as he tilted his head back and took a long swallow, his throat working. Jealousy ripped through Zane as he saw Ty drink deeply, licking his lips as he set the now half-empty bottle back down. Zane had had a crappy day, and he wanted that beer; he wanted a drink so badly he could fucking taste it. 

“ _You’ve got to tell him you can’t have that shit in the house, Zane_.” 

Zane remembered the day Ty had left for deployment. He had come home to a too-silent house after seeing Ty off at the airport, and the sight of Ty’s compass rose necklace sitting on the dresser in their bedroom had driven Zane back downstairs. He had mindlessly opened the fridge and had seen a couple bottles of Ty’s favorite brand of beer lined up on the bottom shelf. Reaching for one with shaking hands, he had twisted the top off, lifting the ice cold bottle to his nose and breathing in the scent. Zane remembered how he’d pressed the open mouth of the bottle to his lower lip, wanting so badly to suck the whole fucking thing down and have more….drink more…drink until he passed out, until he didn’t have to feel, didn’t have to think…

Zane had blindly fished his cell phone out of his pocket and hit speed dial, lifting the phone to his ear.

“ _Hello?”_

_“Sam,” Zane said hoarsely. “I’m at home, and I have a bottle of beer in my hand. I’m going to drink it. I’m going to drink it, Sam.”_

_“Zane,” his AA sponsor’s voice was calm. “No, you’re not going to drink it. Put it down on the counter now, and leave the house. I’ll meet you. Meet me at the coffee shop. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Zane? Put down the beer bottle and leave the house.”_

_Zane set the bottle down, unwrapping his fingers one by one, forcing himself to let go. He wanted to drink it. He wanted it –_

_“Sam,” he gasped. “I can’t sit in a coffee shop, I need to move. Meet me at the waterfront park instead.” Zane hated how shaky his voice was. He was fucking losing it._

_“Okay, sure. I’ll be there as soon as I can, bud. Stay on the phone with me while you walk. I want you to tell me that you’ve put down the bottle and you’re leaving the house.”_

_Zane backed out of the kitchen, grabbing up his keys and wallet and shoving them haphazardly into his pocket. He lurched out the door and down the front steps, practically running down the sidewalk to get away from the temptation of the beer, the temptation to drown his sorrows, to forget the pain and aching loneliness, if only for a little while._

_“Zane?” The tone of Sam’s voice coming through the phone sounded like he’d been repeating himself. “Zane? Are you out of the house?”_

_“Yes,” Zane muttered. “I’m out.”_

_“Okay, I’m hanging up now. I’m on my way.”_

_Zane strode down the sidewalk, his hand clenched around his phone so tight that he was surprised it hadn’t shattered. He had no idea what his face looked like, but it must not have been pleasant as passersby glanced at him and then just as hurriedly looked away again._

_After several minutes of walking, Zane reached the small waterfront park and paced, waiting for Sam, his AA sponsor for the last two years, to show up. They had met at Zane’s very first AA meeting, and Zane had known immediately that he wanted the older man as his sponsor. Sam was in his late 50s, a retired Baltimore police officer and a Gulf War veteran, a tough, no-nonsense man that didn’t have time for any bullshit. He was also compassionate and kind, willing to drop everything at a moment’s notice to be there for Zane, especially in the first months of Zane’s sobriety and during his first separation from Ty after the trauma of New Orleans. Zane considered the older man a good friend, and he’d told Sam things about his past that he hadn’t even told Ty._

A loud curse brought Zane back to the present, and he watched Ty as he bent down to pick up whatever it was he’d dropped. Zane backed quietly out of the doorway back into the house, knowing his limits, knowing he wasn’t able to be around the beer right now no matter the temptation of sticking around to watch Ty bend over in those jeans. He headed up the stairs, seriously considering leaving again and going to find an AA meeting.

After a few minutes’ soul-searching, Zane decided to take a hot shower to relax, see if that could help him manage this sudden, intense craving for a drink, and then he’d call Sam and talk with him about it; he could always find a meeting tonight if he needed to.

As he stood under the hot spray, Zane found his thoughts turning again to the day six months ago that he’d said good-bye to Ty, kissed him and then watched him stride down that ramp to the plane without a backward glance. He and Kelly had waited together mostly in silence until the plane took off, and Zane had declined Kelly’s offer of a late lunch before they each caught their own respective flights home. In retrospect he should have accepted; he knew Kelly hadn’t wanted to be alone right then after having to watch his teammates go off to war without him, and even miserable company was still company. Zane had held it together pretty well until he’d gotten home and that beer was suddenly staring him in the face.

_He’d paced impatiently that evening, waiting for Sam to get to the waterfront park. The other man lived close by, and they frequently met at a small neighborhood coffee shop to talk before going to a meeting, or when they just wanted to touch base and see how the other was doing. Zane heard his name being called, and he turned and watched Sam ride up on his ancient bicycle and lean it negligently against a tree before walking up to him. He didn’t say a word, just gripped Zane’s shoulder in greeting as they began to amble along the path that ran alongside the water._

_After a few minutes, Sam said quietly, “What’s going on, son?”_

_Zane swallowed several times, struggling to get the words out. “Ty left today for deployment. He was re-called into active service with just 48 hours’ fucking notice.”_

_“Jesus.” Sam’s quiet curse released the floodgates on Zane’s emotions, and they came roaring to the surface, overwhelming in their sheer intensity._

_“I just got him back, Sam!” he cried, anguished. “We’d gone through so much shit, and we’d taken that month to be apart, and I’d just fucking gotten him back!” Zane felt his legs start to collapse out from under him, and he staggered to a convenient bench, falling onto it and then leaning forward and burying his face in his hands. A warm, comforting hand gripped his shoulder as Sam sat down next to him._

_“I fucked things up so badly in New Orleans,” Zane continued in a tortured voice. “I chose to drink, and instead of talking to him and giving him a chance to explain things, I hurt him in so many ways, and I caused us to waste so much time. A fucking month that we could have been together, a month that we’ll never get back and that we might never get a chance to –“ he broke off, unwilling to say the words._

_“Zane,” Sam said in a compassionate voice. “What’s the first thing they teach us in meeting? What’s the AA motto? Come on, say it with me.”_

_Zane shook his head, the heels of his hands digging painfully into his eyes. Sam squeezed his shoulder tighter and said, “Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things **I cannot change.** ”_

_He moved to kneel in front of Zane, pulling Zane’s hands away from his face and forcing Zane to meet his eyes._

_“You can’t change the past, son, no matter how much you wish you could, no matter how much regret you have. Hell, there’s not one man or woman on this planet that wouldn’t go back and change something if they could.”_

_Zane stayed silent, hating how his lips were trembling but unable to stop them. A tear tracked down his cheek and he turned his head and dashed it away impatiently against his shoulder._

_“What’s the next part of the motto, Zane?” Sam paused, then continued, “The courage to change the things I can.”_

_Sam paused again to let that sink in, holding Zane’s eyes with his._

_“Okay. Let’s go over the things you can’t change. You can’t change the past, and you can’t change the fact that Ty is gone. We’re a country at war and it’s his job, his duty as a United States Marine.”_

_Zane gritted his teeth, then choked out, “What if he doesn’t come back, Sam?”_

_Sam looked steadily back at him. “He might not, Zane. I’ve been to war, and I’ve seen good men die. Brave men, young men with people who loved them waiting for them back home. I won’t bullshit you, son, that’s not what you need right now. That’s one of the things you can’t change, is that Ty might not come through this.”_

_Another tear tracked down Zane’s cheek, and this time he didn’t bother wiping it away. He appreciated Sam’s blunt honesty, even as it felt like his insides were shredding._

_“But Zane, that brings me to the things you CAN change. If – when — Ty comes home, he’s going to need you to be as strong, as whole, as you can possibly be for him. Use the time he’s gone to get yourself in a good place. The first step is you’ve got to stop this cycle of self-hatred and self-blame for what happened in New Orleans. Instead of using your energy to constantly beat yourself up for what happened, forgive yourself and then try to figure out why you made the choices you made so you can make damn sure it never happens again.”_

_Zane pushed Sam away and stood up, clutching his hair in his hands as he paced. “But I put my hands on him in anger, Sam! I threw him across a fucking room, for Christ’s sake! How can I possibly forgive myself for that?”_

_Sam stood up, too, and gripped Zane’s arm, forcing him to stop pacing. He was several inches shorter than Zane, thin and wiry, but his grip was like steel._

_“Sit down and let me tell you a story.” His tone was firm and his gaze implacable, and Zane found himself sitting back down on the bench like an obedient child._

_“When I got back from serving in Desert Storm, I was a mess. I had seen some heavy combat, and in a combat environment, fear, the fear signal, becomes necessary for survival. You’re taught to trust that signal implicitly because it’s the difference between coming home or coming home in a pine box.”_

_Zane flinched, but Sam went on, “That survival skill became so sharply honed, so ingrained, that when I got back home I had no idea what to do with myself when that fear alarm sounded, that ‘fight or flight’ reflex. Things like the sound of a helicopter flying overhead, smoke in the distance, crowds, the smell of diesel fuel…something would trigger those memories, and they would come flooding back unexpectedly, making me feel like I was in the war zone again, like I was experiencing it again right then and there.”_

_“Flashback,” Zane whispered._

_“I convinced myself that I was a pussy, that I was weak, a loser, for coming unglued when a police helicopter flew too low over my house, for Christ’s sake. I refused to get help, determined to tough it out. One day my wife sent me to pick something up for her that she’d ordered for a project she was working on with our daughter for school. The store was across town, her directions were wrong and I got lost trying to find it. It was the days before cell phones, and so I was driving along unfamiliar streets, out of communication, and it triggered a memory of being in Iraq, where being lost in an unfamiliar, unsecured area could mean you might blunder into an ambush. Finding my way home and fighting traffic suddenly became as stressful as driving in Iraq, and I was convinced there were threats everywhere._

_When I finally found my way home, my emotions were completely shut down and my entire thought process was focused on survival. Anger helps to control fear, and I was so filled with fear, so focused on survival, that when I got home, I didn’t see my wife; I saw someone who had screwed up my intel, who hadn’t given me good directions and caused me to end up in what my mind was perceiving as a dangerous, life-threatening situation. My wife didn’t understand what was going on and got angry in return, things escalated and I ended up slapping her across the face.”_

_Zane buried his face in his hands again, reliving the look in Ty’s eyes when Zane had tossed him into that table._

_“I already hated myself for what I perceived as my weakness, and that incident caused me to spiral even deeper into self-loathing and I started drinking. To make a very long, painful story short, during the course of my recovery I was able to forgive myself for that incident, that although there’s no excuse for putting your hands on a loved one in anger, I could at least accept that I didn’t strike her because I’m a bully that gets off on hitting women. I was a combat veteran with some serious issues, that if I had been honest with her about what I was going through, she might have reacted differently too and not escalated things by coming back at me in anger when I was in that state.”_

_Zane clutched his hair again, and Sam squeezed his shoulder._

_“I can’t change what happened, what I did. But after that, after almost losing my family, I made a vow to do everything I possibly could to understand myself and make sure that it never, ever happened again.”_

_Zane looked down at his hands and whispered, “How can I ever excuse what I did that day?”_

_“I’m not saying to look for excuses, because there IS no excuse. What I’m saying is try to get to the point where you accept that you’re not a bad person who likes to slap people around, you’re a drunk who layered alcohol on top of the fear, anger and feelings of betrayal and you lost control. That no matter how much remorse you have, there’s nothing you can do to change what’s already happened. All you can do is make sure that it never fucking happens again, son.”_

_Zane shook his head, still resistant, and Sam huffed impatiently._

_“Look, man. I gotta be honest here, you know me. Ty has to own his part in this, too. He needs to understand where you were coming from that day.” Sam held up his hand when Zane opened his mouth to speak. “No, not looking for excuses. But I know something about being in deep cover, Zane. I was a cop. I’ve been there, and I’ve been in a war zone. In both circumstances you’re fighting for survival, walking that tightrope of fear, honing those instincts, those reflexes until they’re razor sharp. You’ve got some combat stress of your own to deal with, my friend.”_

_Zane snapped his mouth shut, his mind reeling._

_“Yeah. In your world, betrayal meant the ultimate penalty. You’ve told me about those men you saw killed in front of you that were suspected of talking to cops or rival factions. You told me how you sometimes were forced to participate in ‘interrogations’ of those who had been caught in betrayal of the cartel.”_

_Sam knelt down in front of Zane again. “You’d lost your wife. She’d betrayed you by dying.” He held up his hand. “No. She wasn’t supposed to die and leave you, but she did. It was a betrayal. In the cartel you saw horrible things as a result of betrayal. Ty betrayed you. Reflexes took over, the reflex to drink, to control your fear with anger. Own what you did, Zane, but work on forgiving yourself, too. Take all that shit and use it, use it to understand yourself and continue to get well. You are in a better position to help Ty when he comes home than you think you are, Zane. He’ll need you.”_

_Sam moved up to sit next to him, his arm wrapped tightly around Zane’s shoulders._

_“You kissed your wife good-bye one day and you never saw her again. You kissed Ty good-bye this morning and there’s a possibility that same thing might happen. You’ve dealt with that pain in the past by drinking, and when you saw that beer tonight, that reflex took over and you opened that beer. But you didn’t drink it, man. You put it down and you left it behind. I’m proud of you, Zane. Work on forgiving yourself for the rest of it. It’s not easy, I know that better than anyone.”_

_Zane scrubbed his hands over his face, still not trusting his voice, but he nodded._

_“Now what I want you to do is call someone that you trust to get over to your house and get that shit out of there before you get home. And Zane, you’ve got to talk to Ty about having beer in the house. It’s not cool, man, it needs to stop.”_

_“We’ve talked about it before, and I know he didn’t mean to leave it there, Sam. We just had so little time –“_

_“Don’t make excuses for him, not in this. You’re an alcoholic, and having alcohol in the house is showing you and your recovery no respect. Call someone to get that crap out of there, and make a vow to me right now that you will respect yourself enough to demand that he not bring that shit into the house anymore. Period.”_

_Zane fished his phone out and called Fred Perrimore, explained what he wanted, told him where to find the hidden spare key, relieved when the man hadn’t asked any questions, just agreed. He really was turning out to be a good friend._

_“Okay, man.” Sam stood up and looked at his watch. “There’s a meeting that starts in ten minutes. If we hurry, we’ll make it. Come on.”_

The shower curtain being ripped open startled Zane back into the present, and a grinning, naked, filthy Ty crowded into the shower with him. He stuck his head under the spray, spluttering, before reaching for Zane and leaning in for a kiss. Zane started to turn his head away, needing to avoid the smell and taste of beer, but the minty aroma of mouthwash wafted to him and he sagged with relief, sliding his arms around Ty’s waist and kissing him back.

“Mmm,” Ty murmured, nipping at Zane’s lips. “I missed you today.”

Zane nuzzled into Ty’s neck, enjoying Ty’s shiver as he mouthed along the sensitive skin.

“Missed you, too. It’s not the same around the office without you.”

“Yeah, it’s probably a lot quieter and a lot more sane,” Ty replied wryly, his hands sliding down to palm Zane’s ass suggestively, pulling him close.

“But not nearly as much fun,” Zane teased. “Clancy said to tell you ‘hi,’ and that every morning when she looks at the FBI’s Most Wanted list, she halfway expects to see you on it.”

“Hey!” Ty protested, giving the middle finger to the absent Clancy. “It’s not like I’ve been there for the last six months anyway!”

Zane kissed his lover soothingly. “We all thought it was just a temporary reprieve from the twitchiness. No one wanted it to be permanent, baby. We miss you.”

“Yeah, well,” Ty wouldn’t meet Zane’s gaze. “I’m gonna miss it, too, Zane.”

“Ty,” Zane cupped the other man’s face in his hands. “Come back. Let me transfer to the DC office. I know for a fact that Burns hasn’t dropped your paperwork to HR yet. He wanted to give you time to think it over, to be sure this is what you really want.”

“Nope,” Ty said firmly. “You’re not transferring to DC. You’re happy at the office here, and you’re with a great team. The main thing is we’re together, and I’ll figure out the rest.”

Zane opened his mouth to argue some more, and Ty murmured, “Trust me, Zane,” before pulling him into a kiss, effectively shutting him up. They kissed lazily, soapy hands roaming, until the water grew distinctly colder and they reluctantly got out.

“You want to go somewhere tonight?” Ty called from the closet, his voice muffled. “It’s Friday night.”

Zane pulled on some old comfortable jeans and a t-shirt, then leaned against the closet doorway, his arms crossed.

“Nah,” he answered, thinking of the beer craving, not wanting to be around alcohol anywhere, knowing it wasn’t a good idea. “I’d rather just stay in tonight, if that’s okay.”

“Whatever you want, my love,” Ty said, emerging from the closet dressed in loose sweatpants and t-shirt. “Want me to order out?”

“Not all that hungry, to be honest. But go ahead if you want.”

“Everything okay?” Ty looked concerned as he stopped in front of Zane, looking at him searchingly.

“Yeah,” Zane said as reassuringly as he could, leaning down and stealing a kiss before palming his cell phone off the dresser and heading for the stairs. “Gonna make a quick call, and then let’s watch a movie? Choose something off of Netflix, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Ty didn’t look convinced, but he disappeared down the stairs and Zane made his way up to the balcony and dialed Sam. When he told his sponsor about his craving, the other man said, “You need to go to a meeting?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Zane said slowly. “I feel like I got it under control, but I wanted to touch base with you about it.”

“Goes back to what I’ve said over and over, Zane. You gotta tell Ty –“

“I know, I know, Sam. But he just got home, and he’s dealing with a fuckload of changes right now. I don’t want to –“

“You don’t want to, what? Relapse on your sobriety? Set yourself back in your recovery? Listen to yourself, bud. Those things need to be priority one in your life. If Ty loves you, he will deal with not having his fucking Bud Light or whatever right at his fingertips. Respect yourself, man. Talk to him.”

“I will.” Zane hung up, taking a few deep breaths before heading downstairs. He would talk to Ty, just – not yet. Ty had so many burdens and Zane refused to add to them right now. Zane was stronger than he’d ever been, and he could and would handle it.

When he got downstairs, Ty was standing at the stove making an omelet, the iPod blaring again. That was one thing he’d noticed since Ty had gotten home, his lover couldn’t seem to stand any sort of silence anymore. There was always music playing, or the TV droning softly in the background; white noise. As he watched, Ty’s body swayed to the beat of the soulful R&B song, his rich voice singing along. Okay, so maybe there were perks to the constant music.

Zane stepped up behind Ty and put his hands on Ty’s hips, nuzzling the back of his neck.

“Hey, sexy,” he murmured. Ty flipped the burner off and pushed the pan to the back of the stove and turned in Zane’s arms.

“Hey, yourself,” Ty murmured back, and they moved into a slow dance around the kitchen, kissing, nuzzling. Zane reveled in the feel of Ty in his arms, his body so solid, so warm against him, the smell of his clean hair, the sound of his voice dropping to a low growl as he sang in Zane’s ear.

The song faded to a close, and in that instant before the next one started, Zane heard Ty whisper in his ear, “Love you, Zane.” He seemed to hold his breath, and Zane recognized the signs of Ty wanting to say something else but forcing himself to hold back. Zane didn’t push it, but kissed his lover gently before pulling away.

“Finish fixing your dinner, then meet me in the living room.”

Ty had queued up some buddy cop movie that actually turned out to be quite good, and they sat entwined on the couch, their feet propped on the coffee table, toes flirting and rubbing. At one point Ty slipped out and brought back in a bowl of washed, hulled strawberries, and they fed them to each other, stopping every now and then for strawberry-flavored kisses, laughing, enjoying the movie and the simple pleasure of just being together. Zane vowed he would never take moments like this for granted again.

Ty held a large strawberry to Zane’s lips, and Zane took a bite, juice spurting out and running down his chin. Before he could wipe it away, Ty’s warm, rough tongue was there, licking the sticky juice from Zane’s chin. Zane groaned and tilted his head back, enjoying the feel of Ty’s mouth on his neck, the hollow of his throat.

When Ty nibbled on his collarbone, Zane growled and lay back on the couch, pulling Ty full-length down on top of him. They kissed, no longer playful, but deep, hot kisses that left them both panting with need. Ty sat up and straddled Zane’s hips, pulling at Zane’s t-shirt. “Off,” he ordered, and Zane sat up and lifted his arms, letting Ty strip his t-shirt off before lying back down.

Ty leaned over and picked up another strawberry, biting it in half and eating it, bringing the remaining half to Zane’s lips, painting them with the juice. He leaned down and licked Zane’s mouth clean, trailing the half strawberry down Zane’s neck to his nipples, circling the buds with the cold, wet fruit until they stiffened and Zane was arching his back, moaning.

Ty took his time following the juice trail with his tongue, licking, placing nibbling kisses along the straining tendon in Zane’s neck until his hot, open mouth was between Zane’s pecs, brushing back and forth. Zane threaded his fingers through Ty’s thick hair, gasping, “Please, Ty.”

Ty kissed his way over to Zane’s left nipple, hovering over it, blowing a stream of air over the stiff peak before pointing his tongue and circling it lightly. Zane gritted his teeth and tried to force Ty’s head down but Ty wouldn’t be moved, flicking his tongue over Zane’s excited nipple again and again, until Zane was writhing and begging. Finally Ty took pity on him and his hot, wet mouth surrounded the hard bud and sucked strongly, drawing it deep, letting it go with a pop and then starting over again.

“Jesus, baby,” Zane moaned, his hips thrusting up, looking for friction. “You’re gonna make me come in my goddamn pants.”

Ty grinned and sat up again, his lips wet and swollen from what he’d been doing. “Can’t have that,” he purred. “Need you inside me.” His hips circled, grinding his ass down on Zane’s cock, his own erection tenting the front of his sweatpants impressively. Zane growled, grasping Ty’s hips to hold him still and thrusting up against his ass.

“Fucking cocktease,” he grated. “You’re in for it now. You’re gonna ride me until you make me come, and then I wanna watch you shoot all over me.”

It was Ty’s turn to moan, and he hurriedly pushed his sweatpants down and off, unbuttoning Zane’s jeans just enough to free the other man’s cock, holding it by the base and rubbing the wet tip against himself, flexing his hole, begging with his body. Zane spit on two fingers and massaged Ty’s entrance, thrusting first one, then the other deep inside his lover, fucking them in and out of him roughly.

Ty hissed, spreading his knees as much as he could on the narrow couch, pushing back against Zane’s fingers, his own hand jacking Zane’s cock hard and fast, spreading the pre-cum up and down the shaft.

Zane pulled his fingers free and grasped Ty’s hips. “Put me in you,” he ordered hoarsely, and Ty held Zane’s cock upright, steadying it as he slowly lowered himself onto it, pushing out, both of them crying out as the fat tip spread the tight ring of muscle and slipped inside. Ty’s face was tight with arousal and pain, and Zane, mindless with lust, forced him to take it, holding Ty’s hips steady and thrusting deep.

“God, yes,” Ty cried, his fingers digging into Zane’s shoulders. “Fuck me!”

Zane planted one foot on the floor, his hands bruising as he held Ty down and fucked him hard, their bodies slapping together. As he felt Ty’s ass clamp down and start to ripple around him, Zane eased off, gripping the base of Ty’s cock to stave off the orgasm, holding himself deep but not moving. He then reached up over his head and grasped the arm of the couch, not touching Ty anywhere except for his cock buried to the hilt inside his lover’s ass.

“Ride me,” he ordered in a low voice. “Make it hot, and dirty. Give me a show. Make me come.”

Zane held himself still, forcing Ty to do all the work as he fucked himself onto Zane’s cock, lifting and lowering, circling his hips. Zane’s fingers dug into the couch arm as he fought to hold still, his eyes devouring Ty’s sexy body and hard, swollen cock, the wet tip tapping Ty’s taut belly with every movement.

Ty moaned, long and low, then thrust two fingers deep into his mouth, holding Zane’s eyes with his as he sucked, his tongue flicking between them and lashing the tips. Slowly he dragged his wet fingers down his chest, circling his own nipple with them, bringing it to a hard point before pinching it hard. Zane felt Ty’s ass ripple in response, and he growled, “Again.” Ty gave the other nipple the same treatment, his hoarse cry making Zane’s cock swell, his balls drawing up tight.

“That’s it, gorgeous. More.”

Zane watched hungrily as Ty traced his hands teasingly over his own abs, then slid down to frame his jutting erection, his hips circling as he rode Zane’s cock. He cupped his own balls, lifting them, rolling them, letting himself moan wantonly, his head tipping back. Zane gritted his teeth, sweat beading up on his hairline and rolling down his temple as he fought to stay still.

“Jack yourself,” Zane said hoarsely. “Slowly. I want to see every inch. But don’t come, baby. You don’t get to come until I fill that hot ass full. Understand?”

Ty bit his lip and nodded, lifting his hand to his mouth and licking the palm, slowly, sensually, his eyes closing as he dropped that hand to his cock, taking it in a firm grasp. He fucked his fist, the movements of his hips and the flexing of his abs, along with the sight of the purple head of Ty’s cock appearing and disappearing through the tunnel of his fingers, making Zane’s eyes roll back in his head.

Ty was moaning, “Zane. God, Zane. I want to come. I need to come, baby. Let me shoot my load all over that gorgeous body. Please, Zane!”

Zane could see that Ty was on the edge, every muscle taut as he fought back his orgasm, and Zane gripped Ty’s hips, starting a slow thrust, angling toward Ty’s prostate and hearing his lover sob as he nailed it with the head of his cock.

“Don’t come, Ty. Keep fucking your fist. I want to hear you scream.”

Zane gripped Ty’s hips again, fucking up into him with hard, powerful strokes, hammering Ty’s prostate ruthlessly, over and over again, watching Ty’s face as his lover was forced to the edge of orgasm, his sobs and loud begging moans echoing off the ceiling, music to Zane’s ears. Zane arched his back, slamming to the hilt deep inside Ty and holding himself still as he came hard, his balls emptying, filling Ty up, his cock throbbing in that tight, rippling channel until every last drop had been wrung from him. Ty was pleading, begging to come, his hand still moving, his cock harder than Zane had ever seen it.

“Come for me, Ty,” he gasped out, and Ty wailed in relief and pleasure, his cock spasming and shooting hot ropes of cum all over Zane’s abs and chest, his balls up tight against his body as he came endlessly, his body arched back like a bow.

They collapsed into a sweaty, cum-covered heap, their chests heaving. As they quieted, Zane’s hands smoothed up and down Ty’s back and he peppered Ty’s face with kisses, murmuring to him softly. They both gasped as Zane’s softening cock slid out of Ty with a wet pop, and Zane rubbed his fingers over the slickness between Ty’s cheeks, feeling a hot possessiveness surge up and almost choke him with its intensity.

“Love you, Ty,” he forced out. “Love you so much.”

Ty hummed, then sat up shakily. Zane bent his knees and brought them up behind Ty’s back, letting his lover brace himself against them. Ty dabbled his fingers through the cum on Zane’s chest, and suddenly he said, “Your body, Zane. What have you been doing?”

“Huh?” Zane said, still floating in a post-orgasmic haze.

“You’ve gone from body builder to swimmer,” Ty said, his hands smoothing over Zane’s sectioned abs. “Leaner, but still defined. Sexy as hell,” he added, “but different.”

Zane felt self-consciousness sweep over him, and he answered tersely, “Yoga,” bracing himself for Ty’s reaction. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Yoga?” Ty echoed incredulously. “You mean –“ He made a circle out of his thumbs and forefingers, giving an exaggerated “ _ohm_ ,” his eyes almost goggling.

“Yeah,” Zane answered abruptly, pushing Ty off of him and sitting up, using his discarded t-shirt to wipe the cum off of himself, then buttoning up his jeans. He slouched mutinously back against the couch, watching as Ty wallowed in laughter on the floor.

“Zane, being all bendy like a pretzel?” he cackled. Suddenly he sobered as a thought occurred to him.

“Where did you learn yoga?” he asked, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl. “Some kind of class?”

Zane saw where this was going, and he smirked. “Yeah, I take a class.”

“So you’re being all bendy, and hot and sweaty, around other people?” Ty stood up on his knees between Zane’s spread legs. He was still naked, and Zane let his eyes wander freely.

“Mostly women,” he said tauntingly. “Young women. _Bendy_ women.”

Ty’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t poke the beast, son.” He pointed his finger in Zane’s face.

Zane grabbed the finger and kissed it. “Actually, Livi is the one that taught me yoga.” He waited for that to sink in, getting so much enjoyment out of watching Ty’s eyes goggle again.

“Livi? _Deuce’s_ Livi?”

“The very same,” Zane pronounced, smirking as Ty looked around wildly for his cell phone. 

“You can’t call him now,” he said reasonably. “It’s almost midnight and the baby will be asleep.”

Ty stopped scrabbling for his phone and pointed at Zane again. “Okay, mister, you _will_ tell me this story.” He grabbed his sweatpants and pulled them on. “Gotta go take a shower and wash the gallons of cum off me,” he grumbled. “Then we’re gonna talk.” He headed for the stairs, wincing slightly as his sore ass protested the steps, and Zane felt that hot satisfaction pulse through him again.

He lay back against the couch, letting his mind drift back to that morning six months ago, the morning after Ty had left for deployment and his own near-relapse. He’d stayed awake all night thinking about his conversation with Sam, and as soon as the hour was decent, he’d picked up the phone and dialed. When Deuce had answered, Zane laid it all on the line for him, his marriage and Becky’s death, parts of his past with the cartel, what happened in New Orleans. When he was finished, there was a long silence.

_Zane had gone on, “Deuce, please believe me when I say that I’m not looking for ways to excuse what happened in New Orleans. I just want to understand myself, help myself.”_

_“Of course I believe you, Zane,” Deuce said gently. “Let me ask you a question. How long after your wife died was it that you went undercover the first time?”_

_Zane thought for a moment. “A few weeks, maybe.”_

_“See, here’s the thing about grief. It’s one of the strongest of human emotions, and it’s still a little bit of a mystery, especially to us shrinks. Bear with me for a minute while I get a little technical here, but I think it’s necessary for you to understand this.”_

_Zane settled into the chair on the balcony and propped his feet on the railing, getting comfortable. He loved sitting up here in the morning; it’s where he felt closest to Ty._

_“There are a shitload of myths about grief, Zane. You’ve heard the saying, ‘Time heals all wounds.’ That’s not necessarily true, and grief doesn’t diminish over time. The loss is always there, but the intensity of the grief comes and goes in waves, like a tide. It will surge, and then it’ll recede. Over time the waves come less frequently, until it becomes possible to live with the memory of the person that’s passed on. There comes an ‘acceptance’ of the loss, and God, I hate that term ‘acceptance.’ It has such an overused quality to it, doesn’t it? And the definition of it means agreement, concurrence or assent, which is the last thing you’d say happens when dealing with the sudden loss of someone you love. Agreement?” Deuce snorted softly, and Zane hummed a response, his hand gripping the phone._

_“But when we use the word ‘acceptance’ in therapy, it does NOT mean ‘making peace with’ or ‘finding meaning in’ or any of that bullshit. Basically and fundamentally, acceptance is the act that allows us to come to terms with and live with a major loss. That usually comes after grief. Grief that’s been allowed to run its course. That’s one of the mysteries of grief, Zane. It has to be allowed to run its course.”_

_Zane saw where Deuce was headed with this, and he said, “But I needed to keep busy, Deuce. I thought that throwing myself into work was the best way for me to deal with it.”_

_“Zane, that was absolutely the worst thing you could have done and I’m frankly surprised that your superiors bought off on it. It’s not like your work was a – I don’t know, a fucking accountant or something and you could bury yourself in tax returns until all you could think about was crunching some guy’s numbers and making them fit. Your job was to take on another persona, for Christ’s sake, somebody that hadn’t buried their wife two weeks ago, where your very life depended on how well you could play a part. You were forced to lock up that grief and put it on hold because your very survival depended on it.”_

_Deuce paused to let that sink in, then continued, “It’s exactly like a soldier on the battlefield, Zane, who watches his buddy get blown up next to him but yet he still has to complete his mission. You had to complete your assignment. And not only were you trying to suppress your intense grief after losing your wife, you were also thrust into dangerous, life-threatening situations which kept your stress level at an extreme. Zane, I – there’s no words. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for you, man.”_

_Zane hadn’t said anything, his throat closed, his chest burning. After a minute, Deuce had gone on._

_“And grief that’s suppressed, that’s locked up, starts to get expressed in unhealthy and indirect ways, like alcohol or drug abuse, aggression, withdrawal. It also can lead to despondency, despair, a feeling that life isn’t worth living. Did you ever feel suicidal, Zane?”_

_“I –“ Zane had choked, his breath sawing in and out._

_“Suicidal intentions aren’t always conscious,” Deuce said gently. “Becoming self-destructive with alcohol or drug abuse, taking on more and more dangerous assignments, becoming reckless, acting out in rage until you’re killed, someone taking that decision out of your hands – sound familiar?”_

_Deuce didn’t seem to require an answer, just went on. “You came out of it alive, but a drunk and a drug addict, a man that had locked down his emotions so tightly that you weren’t really living, just existing. Then you met my brother.” Deuce’s voice was dry, and a laugh escaped Zane._

_“When you let him in, when you opened your heart to him, Zane, all of that poison inside that had been so tightly locked away started to seep out, waiting for its chance. In New Orleans, when you thought you’d lose Ty after finding out that he’d betrayed you, lied to you, that fear of yet another permanent loss was overwhelming. And your sponsor is right, anger helps to control fear. Anger, and the reflex to drink to manage your emotions, took over and that was it.”_

_“How –“ Zane cleared his throat, his voice hoarse. “Deuce, how do I possibly deal with all of this? It’s so much to process. I —“_

_“I’d like to come spend a little time with you, if that’s okay. I have some things we can work on in therapy. It’ll be some hard work, Zane, and it will dredge up some things that will be very painful.”_

_“I don’t care,” Zane whispered. “I want to deal with this. I need to.”_

_“For whom?” Deuce asked gently._

_“For myself,” Zane answered honestly. “It’s important to my sobriety, and my recovery.”_

_“Good answer.”_

_“But for Ty, too, because I love him, Deuce. He deserves my best, and he hasn’t gotten it up to now.”_

_“He loves you more than I think you realize,” Deuce said softly. “He loves you for who you are, including everything that has shaped you, not in spite of them. I’ve had this similar conversation with him, too, you know. Because you deserve **his** best. You’ll get there, both of you.”_

_Zane had hung up the phone with a new resolve, and at his first opportunity, he took a long weekend and he spent it with Becky. For the first time in years, he let himself really, truly think about her, let long-forgotten and suppressed memories bubble up. He relived some of their biggest moments together, and he was swamped in nostalgia. At one point he even called his father and sister, encouraging them to share their memories of Becky with him as well. They were both touched and pleased by his request, and it was a pleasant conversation, full of laughter and fondness._

_“I can do this,” Zane thought after he’d hung up with Annie. The memories and stories were enjoyable and somewhat vague, fuzzy, like they’d happened to another person. Not so bad after all. What had he been afraid of?_

_His iPad chimed with an incoming email, and Zane opened it to see it was from Annie, with an attachment. When he’d clicked on it, he saw that his sister had scanned and emailed a picture taken at his and Becky’s wedding, he and his brand-new wife with their arms around each other, heads tilted together. Becky looked so beautiful, in white, her hand resting delicately on Zane’s tuxedoed arm._

_Zane’s hands started to shake as he looked at their smiling faces, eyes sparkling with innocence and hope. His lips trembled at how young they were, how happy, how they had no idea of the storms the future held for them. How in just a few short years it would all be lost, torn apart in the blink of an eye._

_Grief swelled up in a huge wave, and it broke over Zane’s head with the force of a tsunami, dragging him down, stealing the breath from his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. “No,” he gritted out, fighting the reflex to lock it away, to go find a drink, and he rode the wave, letting it rip him apart, and when it was over, he started to talk to her. He stroked her face with his fingertips as he let out all the anger, the disbelief, the anguish and the guilt. He talked until his voice was hoarse, and he finally fell into an exhausted sleep with the iPad clutched to him, his face streaked with tears._

_When he’d awoken, he’d called Sam and they’d gone to a meeting, then spent the rest of the evening talking. Later as Sam had walked Zane home, he’d patted his back and said quietly, “I’m proud of you, son.” And Zane could say with all honesty that he was proud of himself, too. It was a beginning._

Lost in his memories, Zane never heard Ty come back downstairs, until he was suddenly aware of his lover moving about in the kitchen, cleaning up. There was no music playing, Ty having obviously thought Zane was asleep and didn’t want to disturb him, but he was humming softly as he washed the dishes. Zane came up behind him and kissed the back of his neck.

“Have a good nap?” Ty asked, wiping down the sink and drying his hands on the dish towel.

“I wasn’t sleeping, I was thinking.”

“About what? You were dead to the world.” Ty wrapped Zane up in a hug, and Zane held him close as he told his lover about his conversation with Deuce, and the aftermath. Ty gazed solemnly into his face, never interrupting, his hands running soothingly up and down Zane’s arms.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked.

“Actually, pretty good,” Zane admitted. “The first few days were bad, since I’d opened myself up for everything to pretty much overwhelm me. But I had Sam, and then Deuce and Livi came. Deuce and I talked a lot. He helped me work through some stuff, gave me the tools I needed to keep working through it.”

“Is that where the yoga comes in?”

Zane smirked. “Yeah.”

Ty reached around and pinched Zane’s ass, hard. “Let’s go up to bed, then, and you can tell me about it.” As they started walking up the stairs arm in arm, Ty looked at Zane out of the corner of his eye. “Any more big surprises? Do I even _know_ you anymore?”

Zane leaned down and kissed him. “I’m still me, baby, just a little less fucked-up.”

Ty snorted, his arm tightening around Zane’s waist, and they made their way up to bed, snuggling under the covers, Ty’s head on Zane’s chest.

“So Deuce and Livi came, and stayed here? They brought the baby?”

“Yeah,” Zane said, smiling at the memory of the little family’s chaotic arrival. “Livi spent a good two hours baby-proofing everything. She’d brought all these drawer locks, and bumpers for the doors, a gate for the stairs. Amelia was just learning to walk, so she was into everything.”

Ty didn’t say anything, but he sighed, and Zane knew he was thinking about everything he’d missed while he was gone. He kissed the top of Ty’s head.

“Did you know that Livi put a laminated picture of you on a ring and attached it to the diaper bag?”

Ty lifted his head and looked at Zane, his eyebrow raised.

“Seriously. And every time one of them changed Amelia’s diaper, they would show her Uncle Ty’s picture. Sometimes she would see it on her own and go up to it and kiss it.”

“That’s so sweet,” Ty said.

“I carried her upstairs once, and I took her into our bedroom to grab my cell phone charger, and she saw the picture of us on the nightstand.” Zane nodded his head toward the picture of he and Ty, the one taken for that calendar photoshoot, that was framed and on their nightstand.

“You should have seen her babble and reach for it, and when I handed it to her, she kissed it.” Zane leaned over and picked up the picture, showing Ty the small smudge mark right over his face. Ty sniffed audibly.

“You were gone, but not forgotten, Ty. Never forgotten,” Zane whispered, as he pulled Ty close again.

Ty cleared his throat, then demanded, his voice only a little hoarse, “So tell me about the yoga.”

“One of the things Deuce wanted me to work on was relaxation techniques, things I could do when the drink craving hits, or when I feel particularly tense and stressed. He wanted me to have some coping techniques so that I wouldn’t go back into that cycle of bottling everything inside.”

Zane settled deeper into the pillows, enjoying the weight of Ty’s head above his heart, the way his lover’s legs entwined with his, Ty’s toes stroking his calf gently.

“We talked about meditation, and deep breathing. Deuce suggested that Livi could maybe teach me some yoga techniques, since the practice of yoga involves both of those things. I laughed my ass off at first, but then I watched Livi practice her yoga one morning.”

Zane could still remember his awe as he’d watched Livi on her mat in the quiet morning stillness, Amelia still safely asleep up in the room with her daddy. 

“She was sitting so still, so peaceful, her breathing deep and slow. I’d never seen anybody so relaxed. And then she just started to – there’s no other word for it than flow into these poses, one after the other. I couldn’t look away, she looked so serene, so focused. Her breathing never quickened, but I could see sweat on her skin; she was really working hard.”

Ty’s hand made idle circles on Zane’s belly as he listened.

“And then when she was done, she went back to her original position, deep breathing, stillness. When she opened her eyes, they were so calm. I wanted that for myself, Ty. I begged her to teach me. And she did.”

Zane remembered how awkward he felt, a big man trying to emulate this small sprite of a woman. But Livi had been nothing but patient, and by the time she and Deuce had left a few days later, Zane felt like he had mastered the basic poses enough to branch out into a class. Livi had made a few calls and located a small, exclusive studio on the way to the Bureau offices, one that took the practice of yoga seriously; it wasn’t just a place to see and be seen. Zane had felt extremely self-conscious at first, but the women and one other man in the class had barely looked at him other than to murmur a welcome, so caught up were they in their practice. Zane had enjoyed the early-morning class immensely, and had made it a point to go as often as he could after that.

“I find myself using the deep breathing technique when things are rough at work,” Zane said. “And I’ve been able to slim down. I’m eating cleaner, cut out processed foods, and I can tell that my body is more efficient. I love it, and I really do love yoga.”

Ty swept his hand admiringly up and down Zane’s chest and belly. “I love it, too,” he leered. Zane felt a blush stain his cheeks, but he smiled; he wanted to look good for his lover, and it pleased him that Ty enjoyed his body.

Ty propped himself up on an elbow and looked down into Zane’s face. “It’s good to see you like this, darlin’.” He leaned down and nuzzled Zane’s nose with his.

“Like what?” Zane whispered, his hand smoothing up Ty’s back.

“Relaxed, calm…more at peace. You’ve done lots of hard work while I was gone, and it shows.” Ty kissed Zane softly, then sat up completely, looking down at him.

“But earlier today, when I got into the shower with you, why did you flinch away from me at first?”

Zane’s eyes widened. Leave it to his perceptive lover to pick up on that; Zane had thought his hesitation had been so slight as to not be noticeable. He scrambled for an answer, then sighed inwardly, deciding the time had come for them to have this talk again. He pushed himself up and propped the pillows behind him, looking at Ty solemnly.

“It’s because I didn’t want to taste the beer in your mouth. I’d had kind of a rough day, and I was craving a drink.”

“I rinsed with mouthwash,” Ty started defensively, but Zane held up his hand.

“I know you did. But I watched you outside for a little while, working on the car. And I saw the beer. I wanted it. I wanted it badly. It started there, Ty, with the beer just being here, just the sight of it.” He took a deep breath. “Ty, I can’t have you bringing alcohol into the house anymore.” His voice was firm.

Ty sat for a minute, his eyes searching Zane’s. “Okay, of course. I’m sorry. Why haven’t you mentioned how much of a problem this has been for you? I thought you could handle it.”

Zane shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, Ty. I guess in some way I felt that I shouldn’t have to ask.”

Ty winced. “Ouch.”

Zane looked steadily back at him. “I’m asking now. Don’t bring alcohol around me anymore. If you want a drink, stop off and have one, by all means. Rinse with mouthwash when you get home. But don’t bring it in the house.” Briefly he explained his near-relapse six months ago, and Ty winced again.

“I don’t know what to say, Zane, other than I’m sorry.” 

Zane kissed him reassuringly, then said, “The new me. Articulating my needs instead of making you guess what they are. It’s not totally your fault, in the past I made it seem like I could handle it. I put on a good act.”

Ty smiled sadly and whispered, “You’re not the only one, darlin’.” Before Zane could probe that statement, Ty leaned over and flipped the bedside lamp off, then burrowed back into Zane’s arms. He was asleep in seconds, and Zane lay there for a long time, just holding him, feeling him twitch in his sleep. 

Since Ty had gotten back, he hadn’t been sleeping well or deeply, and Zane was worried about him. He’d hoped that once Ty had gotten used to being home and wasn’t in such a state of high situational awareness that his sleeping would improve. But it hadn’t, and most nights Zane woke to find Ty gone from bed. He wanted to go find his lover, see if he could help in some way, but he hesitated to intrude if Ty wanted or needed to be alone. Zane resolved to ask him about it, to confront these questions and issues head-on before they could become a problem, like the alcohol in the house. With that thought firmly in mind, he drifted off to sleep.

****

A few hours later Zane woke abruptly, sitting up and looking at the bedside clock. It was 2:30 a.m., and they’d only been in bed about three hours. Ty was gone, and the pillow was cold. Zane sat in an agony of indecision for about ten seconds, thinking of his earlier words to Ty, _“I guess I felt I shouldn’t have to ask.”_ The same principle applied to this, he finally decided. He wouldn’t make Ty ask, Zane would go to him and let Ty articulate his needs, even if that need was for Zane to leave him alone. 

He got out of bed and pulled on some sweats, padding out of the bedroom and up to the balcony. As he ascended the stairs, the chill in the air got more pronounced, and sure enough, the balcony door was propped open and he could see Ty’s silhouette sitting motionless in one of the chairs.

Zane deliberately made his footfalls heavier so that he wouldn’t startle him, and he called out softly, “Ty?”

“Hey.” Ty’s voice was rusty, hoarse, and Zane felt an ache in his own throat. His lover was in so much pain, and Zane had no idea how to help him. He knelt down next to the chair that Ty was huddled in, and reached up to stroke his face. He balled his hand into a fist and lowered it when Ty flinched away, tamping down the hurt.

“Do you just want to be alone, baby?” he asked gently. Ty shook his head wordlessly, and Zane lowered himself to sit at Ty’s feet and lean against him, facing away to give Ty privacy, letting his hand just rest on the top of Ty’s foot. They sat like that in silence for a few minutes, and Zane could feel Ty relax almost imperceptibly. Zane stroked Ty’s foot with his thumb.

“You’re not sleeping well,” he said quietly. “I’m worried about you.”

Ty didn’t say anything at first, but Zane could feel his fingers touch Zane’s hair, carding gently through the thick strands. He closed his eyes, leaning back into the caress.

“It’s nothing new, Zane,” Ty finally replied. “Over there, we all operated on reduced sleep. Four hours at a time was the average, and most missions took place at night anyway, so…”

They sat, thumb stroking foot, fingers in hair, until Zane finally heard Ty sigh deeply.

“It’s just taking a while to re-train my body to return to a normal cycle of sleeping throughout the night.”

“It’s more than that, Ty. Are you having nightmares?”

Ty didn’t answer, and his fingers stilled in Zane’s hair. Zane could feel the tension return to his lover’s body, and he stroked Ty’s foot soothingly, extending the caress up and down his calf.

Finally Ty cleared his throat and said, “I need you to talk to me, Zane.” His voice was hoarse again, and Zane bit his lip.

“About what, baby?”

“Anything. Just talk to me.” There was the slightest quiver in his voice, and Zane forced himself to keep his touch soothing and his tone light.

“Well, I have to tell you, Ty, that the first day back at work for me after you left was _not_ fun. Thanks a lot for the public outing.” Zane’s voice was deliberately teasing, and he was rewarded with Ty’s soft snort.

“Oh, Jesus,” he said. “I thought about that the whole way over there. What happened?” Ty’s fingers started stroking Zane’s hair again.

“When I first walked in, it was like someone had died. No one would look at me, and everyone was talking too loud and laughing too much, trying to mask the tension. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore and I called the team into a conference room, sat them down, told them that there was no rank here, no supervisors, just people having a discussion, and I wanted to hear what they had to say.”

Zane told him how no one had said anything at first, the silence thick, until Scott Alston blurted out, _“You and Grady don’t **look** gay.” He yelped when Michelle Clancy whapped him on the back of the head and hissed, “Christ almighty, Scott!”_

_“What? They don’t!”_

_“Way to stereotype, idiot. What do gays look like?”_

_“Not him!” Alston waved his hand toward Zane. Zane stayed silent, letting the others set the tone of the discussion, knowing they had to get this out in the open and clear the air._

_“They’re too masculine, is that it? You think they should have walked around lisping and flapping limp wrists, talking about fashion and whistling show tunes?” Michelle’s voice held a wealth of disgust, and Scott looked a little shame-faced as he mumbled, “Well…yeah, I guess.”_

_The others snorted in disgust, and Scott’s tone turned defensive, “I haven’t known any gay guys before, okay? And all I can think of is Robin Williams in ‘Birdcage’!” Even Zane burst out laughing at that, and the tension in the room eased a little as they all teased Scott about even knowing who was in ‘Birdcage,’ much less having seen it. He mumbled something about a girlfriend making him watch it once._

_“Look, I know it was a shock, and believe me, that’s not the way I would have chosen to come out to you,” Zane said, when the room had quieted. “When Grady and I were partnered, we never thought this would happen, or meant for it to. But it did, and we tried not to let it affect the way we do our jobs. We’re still the same people, the same agents, and I hope that what we do in our off-time, in the privacy of our own home, doesn’t color your perceptions of us and our professionalism. I don’t think about what y’all do in your bedrooms, and I’d kind of like the same courtesy.”_

_Scott looked a little pale at that, and Clancy bit her lip and looked at Zane through her lashes. “So are you and Ty together-together? It’s serious, not just –“ she waggled her hand back and forth, meaning it as a just-messing-around gesture._

_Zane looked her straight in the eye. “We’re partners in every sense of the word, Michelle. Yes, it’s serious.”_

_Michelle’s lips twisted in a wry grin as she said, “Damn, what a waste. Female hearts are breaking all over the country.” They all chuckled, and Zane answered a few more questions before sending them all back to work. Clancy hugged him and Alston bumped knuckles with him somewhat awkwardly but gave him a genuine smile. Fred Perrimore sat there another few seconds, and Zane realized that his co-worker and friend hadn’t said much. He waited tensely._

_Finally Perrimore stood up and walked up to Zane, gripping his shoulder. “You okay, man? Grady left, when? Day before yesterday?” Zane’s throat closed and he nodded jerkily._

_“If you need to talk, or just need some company, call me anytime. Okay?” Fred’s eyes had held compassion._

_“I will, Fred, thank you,” Zane said thickly, and Fred pulled him into a brief side hug before leaving the room. Zane scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, taking a deep breath and getting back to work._

“You have a good team,” Ty murmured, his hand sliding from Zane’s hair down along his cheek and back again.

“Yeah, they were great. After the shock wore off and it was just business as usual, things more or less got back to normal.”

“How about everyone else? You get any shit?”

Zane couldn’t help but tense, and his perceptive lover picked up on that immediately. “Who?” His voice was low, with a dangerous thread running through it.

“Doesn’t matter, Ty. I handled it.” Zane winced as Ty reached down and gripped his shoulder hard.

“Who?” he repeated. Zane cursed himself for letting his reaction to the memory show; Ty didn’t need this right now.

“I’m not going to tell you who, but I’ll tell you what happened if you just relax, okay?”

Ty’s grip on his shoulder eased, and Zane pushed himself off the ground with a groan, settling in the chair next to Ty.

“My ass cheeks were numb, fucking floor is cold!” Ty didn’t even crack a smile at Zane’s attempt at levity, and his eyes were murderous.

“Ty,” Zane said gently. “I handled it, okay? It was just an ignorant asshole spouting off.”

“What. Happened.” Ty forced out between gritted teeth.

Careful to keep his voice as neutral and emotionless as possible, Zane told him about how he’d done a short run on the office gym treadmill one day, then gone into the locker room to shower and change. He’d crossed paths with one of the older agents, someone whom Zane knew casually and had had lunch with on occasion, worked out with, spotting each other on the free weights. He’d greeted the other man pleasantly, only to be met with a harsh glare and a sneer.

_“Heard you bat for the other team now, Garrett,” the man spat. Zane had taken a couple of deep breaths to calm himself before answering._

_“What does it matter in the grand scheme of things, Joe? It doesn’t affect you in the least.”_

_“The hell it doesn’t! You showered next to me, man!”_

_Zane had deliberately given him a mystified look. “So?”_

_“So? You disgusting – did you look at me?”_

_Zane kept the mystified look. “Probably. You were right next to me. We were talking.”_

_“Were you checking me out? I can’t believe I walked around naked in front of a queer!”_

_Rage was boiling inside Zane, but he let a mocking expression cross his face as he eyes scanned down Joe’s body from head to toe, lingering on the balding head, the red veins in his crooked nose, the paunchy belly hanging over his belt._

_“Hmm. I have Ty Grady in my bed, Joe. Trust me, I wasn’t checking you out.”_

_“You make me wanna puke.” Spittle was collecting in the corners of Joe’s mouth as he ground out, “And I brought my 13-year-old grandson to work with me those couple of days last year! I saw you talking to him! Did you touch him, you piece of –“_

_Joe’s air whooshed out of him as Zane put a hand on his chest and shoved him into the nearest wall._

_“Being gay doesn’t equal child molester,” Zane hissed. “And if you **ever** repeat such a baseless, scurrilous accusation to anyone, I will fucking hunt your fat ass down and cut your tongue out. And that’s after I break your jaw, you ignorant, homophobic asswipe.”_

_Zane was towering over the smaller man, vibrating with rage, and he knew his eyes were murderous. He saw Joe swallow hard, then try for a sneer, but it was shaky._

_“Just stay away from me, you filthy fudge-packer. You make me sick!”_

_“The feeling’s mutual,” Zane said with utter disgust, and he gripped Joe’s collar and shoved him toward the locker room door. “Get the fuck out.”_

_After Joe left, Zane sank down onto one of the locker room benches, trying desperately to control his rage. Before long, with the help of the therapeutic techniques taught to him by Livi, he was calmer, under control. He told himself that it was Joe’s problem, not his, that Joe’s opinion didn’t define him and most definitely didn’t define his relationship with Ty. And he was proud to realize that he hadn’t thought even once of getting a drink to make himself feel better._

After he finished speaking, Zane looked warily at Ty, not surprised to see his lover almost beside himself.

“It was Joe Sorensen, wasn’t it?” Ty spat. “That fat-ass tub of useless lard! I’m gonna fuck his shit up, Zane. What the everloving fuck?”

Zane knelt down next to Ty again and gripped his knees. “Beaumont. Look at me.” Ty’s eyes met his, the furious glare in them scorching. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. I handled it. Joe doesn’t come anywhere near me, and he hasn’t repeated that disgusting ‘accusation.’ He leaves me alone, I leave him alone. Fuck what he thinks.”

“I hate him, Zane. I hate that he said that shit to you!”

“It was nothing I couldn’t handle, Ty,” Zane repeated. 

Ty stood up quickly, forcing Zane to scramble backwards to avoid getting knocked on his ass.

“I’m so fucking sorry, darlin’,” Ty said, in a voice so low Zane had to strain to hear. “I didn’t think about you having to face the consequences alone after that stupid kiss.”

Zane stood up, too, facing Ty and taking him by the arms. “It wasn’t a stupid kiss, Ty. Don’t ever say that again. It was one of the most spontaneous, most _honest_ moments we’ve ever shared. I don’t regret it, not one bit.”

Zane drew Ty against him, wrapping him up. “After that scene with Joe, I realized that I finally was comfortable with who I am, comfortable in my own skin. I haven’t felt that in a long time, if ever. That kiss gave that to me, baby.”

He lifted Ty’s chin and kissed him gently, sweetly. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Ty, in my entire fucked-up, messed-up life.”

Ty cupped Zane’s face in his hands, looking deep into his eyes. “Marry me, Zane,” he whispered.

Zane felt elation rip through him, and his first instinct was to shout, “Yes, please,” at the top of his lungs, but as he opened his mouth to say it, he really looked into Ty’s eyes, which were brimming with love and eagerness and hope but with traces of darkness, and sadness, lurking in the depths. The bruises under his eyes were almost black with lack of sleep and stress.

Zane bit back his words and leaned down, feathering a kiss over Ty’s forehead, then the tip of his nose, and finally his lips, where they lingered.

“How can I say ‘yes’ right now,” he murmured gently, “when there’s so much left unresolved between us? When you don’t feel capable of even letting me share your burdens?”

Zane felt his heart clench at the pain that flared in the depths of Ty’s incredible eyes, but he knew with a fierce certainty that they weren’t ready for this next step, not yet. As much as it hurt, ‘no’ was the right answer.

Ty pushed away from Zane and started to pace. “What kind of man, husband, would I be if I inflicted the details of what I’ve seen, what I’ve done, on you? Zane, you’ve come such a long way in the past six months that I have to tell you I’m in awe, baby. I’m in complete and utter awe of you. You’ve taken your own shit, and the shit that I’ve dumped on you, and you’ve grown from that! You’re healing. I refuse to —”

Zane stepped in front of Ty so that he would have to stop pacing, and he took Ty by the arms and said urgently, “But I haven’t done it alone, Ty. Don’t you see that? I’ve built up a support system and I’ve surrounded myself with them. Every single one of them has brought something to the table that I’ve been able to use to help myself. You’re not alone, Ty. Let me be the foundation that you build on. Talk to me, let me in.”

Ty laughed mirthlessly, the sound harsh and ugly. “Okay, right back at you, Zane. If I asked you to share with me the absolute worst memory of your past, the most horrible, gut-wrenching thing you’ve seen or done during that time in the cartel, what would you say?” His gaze was challenging.

Zane’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Point taken, Ty. I don’t need details. What I do need is for you to trust that I’m strong enough now to support you and to give you what you need from me, whatever that turns out to be. Maybe it’s just to get up with you in the night and be a presence. Maybe it’s to hold you while you cry, or rage, or scream. I don’t know, we’ll figure it out.”

He drew Ty close again. “But I think you need to talk to somebody about the rest of it, Ty. It’s eating you alive, I can see it. I know better than anyone what bottling that shit up, thinking you can handle it alone, can do to you. Don’t make the same mistakes.”

Ty didn’t respond, but he sighed, his arms wrapping tightly around Zane’s waist as they clung together in the chill of the pre-dawn air. Despite their shared body heat, Zane felt Ty shiver against him, goosebumps pebbling his skin.

“Come on, let’s go back to bed. Maybe you can get a few more hours,” Zane murmured, starting to pull away. Ty tightened his hold, his face buried in the curve of Zane’s neck.

“I love you, Zane. And I want to marry you,” he whispered. “I’m not going to give up.”

“Don’t give up on yourself, and the rest will follow, Ty. We’ve got time.“ Zane kissed him before leading him toward the stairs and bed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

As they reached the top of the stairs to head down, Ty stopped, gripping Zane by the arms. “All that shit that happened in New Orleans, we need to –“

Zane stopped the flow of words with a gentle kiss. “And we will. But I want you to make yourself the priority right now. I’m not going anywhere,” he repeated. “I said ‘no’ to marriage, not ‘no’ to us.”

He was rewarded with a crooked half-smile, and they made their way downstairs and back to bed. As they settled down, Zane noticed that Ty was still wound tighter than a spring and he knew that his lover would never get back to sleep. Rolling up on his elbow, he ran his hand soothingly up and down Ty’s chest and belly.

“Can we try something?” he asked. “One of the relaxation techniques that Livi taught me? It’s especially useful for getting to sleep and it _has_ helped me. Let me show you, it’s really simple.”

Ty snorted. “I’m not getting down on the floor and bending myself into a pretzel, not even for you, Zane.” His voice was teasing and Zane smiled.

“You don’t even have to move from this bed.” He sat up in the bed next to Ty, settling himself cross-legged next to his lover.

“Okay, close your eyes and keep them closed.” Zane waited until Ty complied, then murmured, “Think of the most relaxing place you’ve ever been, a place where you were the happiest, calmest. A good memory. Picture yourself there right now in as much detail as you can.”

Zane saw Ty’s face relax, the lines smoothing out just slightly. “Got it in mind?” he asked. Ty hummed an assent, and Zane continued, “Okay. I’m going to start at your feet, and when I name each body part, I want you to tense the muscle up for five seconds, then release the tension, picturing the stress flowing out when you release, feel the muscle relaxing into the bed. Okay, tense your feet, pull them back.” Zane counted softly, “Five, four, three, two, one. Now release.”

Ty complied, and Zane worked his way up Ty’s calves, thighs, his buttocks, his abdomen, chest, and so on. With each release of muscle tension, Ty’s breathing became deeper, slower, as he truly relaxed. By the time Zane got to his facial muscles, Ty was asleep, his lips slack and parted slightly as he drifted off. Zane carefully lay down next to his lover and drew the covers up over both of them, lying awake for several more minutes to make sure Ty was fully out before letting himself slide into sleep.

****

When Zane awoke next, the sun was shining brightly into the room. He came to wakefulness slowly, turning his head on the pillow and noticing with satisfaction that Ty was still in bed next to him, sound asleep. Zane pushed up on his elbow and let his gaze wander over his lover. As he watched, Ty’s eyes opened and he blinked sleepily, his lips quirking up. He was sleep-tousled, his hair standing on end, warm and flushed. Zane felt heat pooling in his abdomen, and he reached out and brushed Ty’s hair back from his forehead, his fingertips lingering on Ty’s cheek, then sliding down to trace over his lips. Ty kissed Zane’s fingers, then nipped them, and Zane groaned under his breath. He was painfully hard and throbbing, and he groaned again as Ty rolled away and stretched, his back arching, his incredible muscles on display.

“Come here,” Zane growled, pulling Ty over on top of him, spreading his knees so Ty could settle between them. They kissed, Ty starting a slow rock, their erections sliding together.

“I love waking up to this,” Ty breathed. “Love waking up to you.”

Zane moaned, then put his lips to Ty’s ear, nipping the lobe, whispering hotly, “Then make love to me, baby.”

Ty did, slowly and thoroughly, until Zane was a sobbing mess of pure need, and as they lay tangled up together afterward, sweaty, sticky, Ty said wickedly, “Sure you don’t want to marry me?”

Zane laughed somewhat breathlessly, his chest still heaving, as he replied, “Oh, I’m going to marry you. Promise you’ll keep asking, because someday I will say yes. Today, it’s no.” Ty grinned mischievously, and Zane felt pure love swell inside him. Ty looked so relaxed, so happy, and he was so fucking beautiful.

“I’m the luckiest man in the world, you know that?” Zane murmured, not waiting for a reply but pushing off the bed with a groan and heading for the shower. “Stay there, I’ll be back in a few. I want to spend the morning in bed with you; what better way to spend a Saturday?”

Ty flopped on his back, flattening out with a sigh. “I’m on board with that plan. Hurry up.”

Zane showered quickly, pulling on a pair of clean sleep pants, noticing with satisfaction that Ty was already dozing again. He went downstairs and made himself a cup of coffee, grabbed Ty a bottle of apple juice and snagged his iPad from the charger before heading back up to the bedroom and climbing into the warm, disheveled bed. He propped himself up on the fat pillows and sipped his coffee, perusing the news headlines on his iPad. It wasn’t long before Ty woke again, and he pulled himself to a half-sitting position, leaning against Zane’s shoulder, one hand drawing lazy circles on Zane’s thigh.

“I never thought I could fall back to sleep last night,” he murmured. “What other kinds of things did Livi teach you? Besides bendy-pretzel shit.”

Zane set his half-empty coffee cup down on the bedside table and relaxed back into the fluffy pillows, wrapping an arm around Ty’s shoulders and drawing him down against him. “Besides what I showed you last night, it was mostly the deep breathing technique, which she called ‘diaphragmatic breathing.’ If I remember to use that technique when I’m stressed, angry or anxious, it really does help me calm down and either regain or keep control.”

Ty sighed, then said quietly, “When I wake up in the night, I’m usually breathing hard, my chest tight with fear and anxiety from whatever fucked-up nightmare I’ve just had. I want you to show me that technique, too, maybe it’ll help.”

Zane’s heart ached even as warmth spread through him at the way Ty had just opened up to him, and he struggled to keep his voice neutral as he replied, “Of course. The combination of the relaxation and breathing techniques has me sleeping better than I have in a long time, and it’s amazing what benefits decent sleep has. I think if we can get you sleeping well, other things might start to smooth out.”

“You still have nightmares, Zane?” 

Zane nodded. “When you first left, I wasn’t sleeping much. It was irrational, but I was afraid that if I slept, I might miss a phone call from you or some news that I needed to have.”

Ty murmured soothingly and kissed Zane’s shoulder.

“And during the day it was taking all of my strength not to drink, especially after that weekend I spent opening myself up to the Becky memories. Then after that, when I did sleep, nightmares of you and she became intertwined, usually me watching you both die in horrible ways. By the time Deuce and Livi got here, I was a mess.”

Zane remembered how he’d been hanging on by the skin of his teeth by the time the little family had arrived, and Deuce had taken one look at Zane’s drawn and haggard face and said, _“Let’s get to work.”_

“What kinds of stuff did my head-shrinker brother teach you?” There was a wealth of fondness in Ty’s voice, and Zane smiled.

“It will probably sound stupid to you as the King of Paperwork Haters, but we did a lot of writing exercises.”

Predictably Ty grimaced, and grunted, “No thanks.”

“A lot of it was worksheets that on the surface sound kind of lame, but it turned out to be more than beneficial.” Zane leaned over and pulled out the bottom drawer of the bedside table, extracting a tattered 3-ring binder overstuffed with paper.

“Jesus, Zane,” Ty exclaimed. “What the fuck is all that?”

“When Deuce and I first started talking after he got here, we both realized that I had no idea how to interpret what I was feeling. I’d spent so many years suppressing emotion that when he asked me to identify them, I was getting frustrated and angry trying to articulate something I hadn’t the first clue about. So he got on the computer and he came up with these writing exercises and printed them out for me.”

Ty opened the book and flipped through the first several pages, then tossed it aside with another grunt.

“Just tell me about it, I don’t want to wade through that shit.”

Zane picked up the book, unconsciously petting it as he held it on his lap. “He wanted me to first focus on and deal with Becky’s loss, since so many of my problems arose from that and how I dealt with it, or didn’t deal with it, as it turned out. He had this paper with a list of primary emotions on it, and I was to circle which ones I felt when I thought of Becky and her death. The primary emotions are easier to identify so we started with those.”

He opened the book and showed Ty a page where he’d circled, “Hurt. Grief. Sadness. Helpless. Powerless.” 

Ty kissed his shoulder again comfortingly, his hand resting reassuringly on Zane’s thigh. Zane cleared his throat, then continued. “Then he showed me a list of more complex emotions, and I circled those. Depressed. Despondent. Guilt. Shame. Rage. Next I had to try and draw a line connecting the complex emotion to the primary emotion that it stemmed from. For example, it helped me make a connection between feeling powerless and the guilt that resulted from that, the guilt and shame that I felt for not being there when she died.”

Zane closed the book and set it aside. “Once I had identified these emotions and the layers and ripples they created, he was able to help me dig deep, get to the root cause of them, and one by one we dealt with each issue. What he’d said was right, it was hard work and very painful.”

He squeezed his eyes shut as he remembered emerging from those sessions feeling like he’d been put through a meat grinder, and how Livi and especially Amelia had become bright spots in a world swirling with a dark maelstrom of pain and grief. He’d pick Amelia up and hold her close, delighting in her baby smell, the innocence and sweetness she represented, her joy in discovery and learning. He’d loved carrying her around, feeling her chubby little arms clutching him tight; he’d found her babbles and exuberance, and most especially her unconditional love, extremely grounding and comforting to him.

Zane had also taken great pleasure in watching Livi and Deuce together, the picture of a healthy relationship, how they’d resolved their minor disagreements, usually over parenting issues, with love and mutual respect, building that foundation they would need when life threw them the big curveballs, as it eventually would. _“Start as you mean to go on,”_ he’d thought, remembering an old maxim his mother used to quote frequently. It was true, though; how they resolved their problems now would carry over through the years.

Zane shook off the memories, then continued, “He asked me to try journaling, to just sit down and free-write, because, as you know, I tend to over-think things in my head.” Zane broke off when he saw Ty’s expression of mock-disbelief, and he gave his lover’s arm a pinch. “Shut up.” Ty pinched him back, and a few moments of gentle grappling, kissing, and murmuring ensued, until Zane’s book fell to the floor with a crash and they rearranged themselves back on the pillows, goofy grins and all.

They cuddled for a while in silence, enjoying the peaceful morning, utterly relaxed.

“Did you write to her, then?” Ty asked idly, his voice drowsy.

“Yeah,” Zane whispered. “I felt stupid at first, and my first attempts were these really formal-sounding, idiotic letters. Then as I got going, and started to just let it flow, I was amazed at what I spewed out. It was so cathartic, Ty. I was able to say things that I’d never in a million years admit that I felt, resentment at her for dying and leaving me, for driving so late at night and putting herself in that position, things that seem irrational but are normal, a natural part of the grieving process. Deuce helped me to understand all that, and I can finally say that I’ve reached true acceptance with her death. She’ll always have a piece of my heart, the piece that was hers first, but it’s in its place, tucked away.” Zane leaned down and kissed Ty gently. “Because the rest of it belongs to you.”

Ty stroked Zane’s face with his fingertips. “Thank you for sharing all this with me, baby. It helps me, too, you know.” Zane did know, could only imagine how threatening the memory of a ghost could seem to the one that came after.

“My life with her is over, and it’s laid to rest, Ty. Of course I’m still going to think of her now and then, but I’ve found it’s with a sense of nostalgia, not pain or grief. Sometimes I hear a song, or smell a scent that reminds me of her, and the feeling is sharper, but I welcome it. It’s like visiting an old friend. It doesn’t impact on our lives together in any way, not anymore. I hope you understand that.”

“I do. I promise I do,” Ty said, burying his face in Zane’s neck. Zane held him for a minute, then gently pulled away and leaned over to pick up his book, putting the papers back in and tucking it carefully away in its drawer. Ty watched, propped up on his elbow.

“Is that all what you wrote her?” Ty’s voice only held idle curiosity, not resentment, and Zane smiled.

“No, most of it is what I’ve written to you.”

Zane watched as Ty’s eyes widened. “Me?”

He pulled Ty close again. “You’re my life now. We want to marry someday. I need to understand myself when it comes to you. I refuse to make the same mistake and bottle up my feelings until they become destructive. I wrote to you almost every day for at least four months. After a few weeks I switched to email.”

“I never got anything,” Ty whispered, and Zane chuckled. 

“I sent them all to a dummy account that I created,” he explained. “It was the act of sitting down and really, truly writing to you that helped me, writing and hitting that ‘send’ button. I know you never got them, and I don’t intend for you to read them.”

“Zane, how am I supposed to know how you feel, then? Are you going to tell me these things to my face?”

“Not all of them, no. Maybe some of them eventually. We’re not ready to deal with this right now, which is why I’m saying we’re not ready for marriage. You just got home, you’re unemployed and you’re dealing with a lot of crap. You’re not sleeping well and you’ve got some things you need to work out. I want you to make yourself the priority.”

“Let me read what you wrote, and then let me respond. Simple, Zane.”

“No,” Zane said firmly. “I wrote them knowing that you’d never read them. There’s stuff in there that’s irrational and self-serving, ugly things about myself, about you. It was an outlet, a catharsis for me, not intended to start any kind of dialogue about what happened in New Orleans. We’ll talk about it when the time is right, not a week after you’ve gotten home from a fucking war zone!”

“Zane, I want to talk about this now! I know you don’t understand why I did what I did, but you’ve got to know deep down that I did it for you! I’m so sorry you took it –“

“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about, Ty!” Zane’s voice rose in anger and agitation. “What I’m hearing from you is not an explanation or apology, it’s the old, ‘I’m sorry you took it the wrong way’ type bullshit, that _my_ interpretation of events must be wrong! That’s not good enough! Especially when I think back and I remember seeing signs of your active deception as far back as that fucking cruise!”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Zane?” Ty was getting angry, too, his eyes darkening.

“You want to go there, Ty? You truly want to go there?” Zane pushed up from the bed, towering over Ty, aware that his pulse was racing, his breathing shallow, anxious, residual anger and hurt flaring and beginning to pulse through his body.

“Yeah, I want to go there!” Ty shouted, kneeling up on the bed, his hands gesticulating wildly. “And then I want to hear why you decided to take the fucking easy way out and knock back a few shots of whiskey before, oh I don’t know, deciding my lying ass needed a beat-down in front of everybody and his fucking brother!”

“Jesus, Ty, this is exactly why I didn’t want to talk about this right now! Do you see what we’re doing to each other, to ourselves? Do you see it? Stop. We need to stop, until we’re both in the right frame of mind to deal with this. Please, Ty. Just stop.”

Zane forced himself to take his therapeutic breaths, breathing deeply from his diaphragm, his abdomen, letting the cleansing oxygen calm the anxiety, the stress, that was flowing through his body. He saw Ty vibrating with anger, and his eyes were deeply wounded. Zane knelt on the floor next to the bed, his hands on Ty’s thighs, which were tense and hard as rocks.

“Step back and look at what we’ll do to each other if we continue this conversation right now, Ty. We can do worse damage than we’ve already done, baby. Please.”

Ty was gasping for air. “I’m afraid, Zane. I can’t lose you, not now.”

“We’re not going to lose each other, Ty. We won’t let that happen.” Zane’s hands stroked up and down his lover’s thighs, settling on his hips. “Shhh.”

Zane moved onto the bed and leaned against the pillows, drawing Ty to sit between his legs, his back to Zane’s chest. He splayed his hands across Ty’s abdomen. “You’re hyperventilating. Breathe from here. Deep, and slow. Round your abdomen, and draw the breath from there. That’s it. Let it expand into your chest. Then let it out. Again.”

Zane took Ty through several deep, therapeutic breaths, hearing his lover’s gasping calm down into controlled breathing. He followed suit, until their racing hearts both slowed, and the crisis had passed.

Ty turned suddenly and straddled Zane’s lap, threading his fingers through Zane’s hair and yanking his head back, his mouth slamming down over Zane’s, devouring him. Zane groaned into Ty’s mouth, opening to him, letting his lover’s tongue plunge deep. He planted his feet on the bed and lifted his hips, thrusting his cock up against Ty’s, his thin cotton sleep pants no barrier.

Ty spit into his palm and thrust his hand down the front of Zane’s pants, pulling Zane’s cock halfway out and jacking him hard, a few strokes and his thumb rubbing the wet head roughly all that was needed to have Zane coming helplessly, his back arching, ropes of cum arcing up to splatter his chest and abdomen. Ty watched greedily, then rose up on his knees, grasping the headboard behind Zane’s shoulders and using it for leverage as he drove his erect cock down against Zane’s abs, using Zane’s cum as lubrication as he rutted, his thrusts shaking the bed and making it creak.

It was rough, and crude, and yet it was the physical connection that was helping to build the bridge to the emotional; they were men, after all. 

Zane grasped Ty’s buttocks in his palms, aiding in Ty’s thrusts against him, undulating his torso under Ty to give his lover the friction he needed. Ty rose up more onto his knees, offering his nipple to Zane, and Zane sucked it eagerly into his mouth, his tongue lashing it to a stiff point before biting down on it. Ty groaned, his thrusts becoming more frantic and ragged, and then his cock was throbbing against Zane’s belly, cum pulsing out in hot jets against Zane’s skin. Zane reached down and milked Ty’s cock in his hand, forcing the last pearly drops up through the slit, then spreading them around the head with his thumb, reveling in the way Ty’s body jerked at the over-sensitivity, the way he moaned, “Stop” as yet he thrust into Zane’s palm wanting more.

“You give it all to me, baby?” Zane growled. “I want it all.” He shoved Ty back onto the bed and pushed his knees wide, licking from the inside of his thigh to his groin, nuzzling his lover’s damp balls, placing sucking kisses up the softening shaft to mouth the head, his tongue lashing, cleaning Ty up. 

“Mmm,” Zane hummed, placing one last kiss on the tip of Ty’s cock before resting his head on his lover’s still-heaving abdomen. He felt Ty stroking his hair with shaking fingers, and they lay there recovering for several more minutes before Zane pushed off the bed, grumbling as he did so, “Third shower in twelve hours. We’re gonna kill each other, Ty.”

They both got cleaned up, then changed into some casual clothes and went downstairs to fix lunch. Afterward Zane settled on the couch with his laptop to catch up on some work email and paperwork while Ty headed to the backyard to work on his car. It was a lazy, relaxing afternoon, and finally Zane wandered outside to sit on the back stoop and watch Ty as he picked up and put away his tools, covering the car with a tarp before joining Zane, sitting close so that their shoulders were touching.

“Your mom called a little while ago,” Zane said, leaning back on his arms. “I would have gotten you, but you were elbow deep in the guts of that car, and you were singing along to the music. She wouldn’t let me disturb you.”

Ty smiled. “I’ll call her back in a few minutes.”

“I know they want to see you. I’m a little surprised they didn’t come meet the plane when you got back.”

“I called and asked them to, when I got the news that I was coming home, but Ma said that she wanted us to have our time together, and that she’d waited six months, she could wait another couple of weeks until we all got together for Deuce’s wedding.”

Zane was touched. “I’ll share you, you know,” he said. “I wouldn’t have minded if they came to meet you.”

Ty snorted softly. “My mom is awesome that way. She felt that you should come first, and who was I to argue? I tend to agree.” 

Zane wrapped him up and kissed him soundly. “I love you. Now I’m going to go fix dinner while you get washed up and call your Mama.”

Zane fired up the grill, getting out two thick steaks that he’d set to marinating that morning and tossing them on, the tantalizing aroma filling the outside air. He cracked open a cold soda, keeping an eye on the steaks, listening to Ty on the phone as he talked with his mother, laughing and teasing. 

Zane flipped the steaks one time, then turned the burner down to low before heading inside to toss some fresh salad greens, slicing up a juicy ripe tomato to top it with, sprinkling the whole thing with balsamic vinegar and some shaved parmesan. Before he took the steaks off the grill, he brought out a few ears of sweet corn that he’d husked and brushed with olive oil before wrapping them in foil, nestling them on the hot grate beside the steaks. He warmed up a package of yeasty rolls in the oven, filling the house with the aroma of fresh-baked bread. By the time he brought in the steaks and corn and had set the table, Ty was finished with his conversation and was washed up, his eyes goggling at the spread of food.

“Wow, Zane, you turned into a domestic goddess while I was gone, apparently,” Ty teased, sitting down and almost rubbing his hands together with anticipation.

“I’ve always enjoyed cooking,” Zane said. “But when it was just me living such a nomadic life, I didn’t bother. I got some refresher lessons while you were gone, and I’ve experimented with different things. It’s fun, and it relaxes me.”

“You took cooking lessons?” Ty mumbled around his mouthful of steak, making appreciative noises as he chewed.

“Not anything formal, just went down to Chiaparelli’s a few Sunday afternoons and got some tips and pointers, some recipes, from Letitia. You know how much I love Italian food.”

Ty’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, Zane, I do know how much you like ‘Italian food,’ he said pointedly. “As long as the food was the only thing you — ate.” His tone was sharp, but his eyes were teasing.

Zane smirked. “Yeah. The only thing I played with was the pasta and cannoli, no sausage was involved.” He cracked up. 

Ty rolled his eyes. “Oh, my God, you’re lame.”

They bantered and bickered amicably as they ate, and Ty insisted on doing the cleaning up, shooing Zane out of the kitchen with swats to his ass with a rolled-up dishtowel.

Zane settled in the den and turned on the news, listening with half an ear as he idly surfed the internet on his iPad, the domestic sounds of Ty cleaning up in the kitchen making him smile with contentment.

Ty soon finished up and joined him, lying back on the couch with his feet in Zane’s lap, his arms crossed behind his head as he watched the news. Zane was just about to suggest they turn the news off and watch a movie when the correspondent segued from the local weather to world news, the lead-in story an IED explosion in Afghanistan that had claimed some American lives. Ty stiffened immediately, and he sat up, watching tensely for a few seconds before reaching for the remote and clicking the TV off. Zane rubbed his back soothingly.

“Jesus,” Ty whispered. He turned to Zane suddenly. “Did you see stuff like that while I was gone?”

Zane nodded. “As much as I tried to avoid the news, I have to be up-to-date on current events for work. I heard stuff.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Ty whispered. “That must have been hard.”

“It was,” Zane said hoarsely. “A couple of times I had a bad feeling about something I heard, and I’d usually call Kelly. He’d laugh and say that it would take more than that to take Sidewinder out, and especially Capt. B. Tyler Grady.”

Ty snorted, “Fucking Devil Doc.”

Zane continued, “Yeah, Kelly is amazing, Ty. But one day his voice sounded strange, and he wasn’t as reassuring as he usually was. I could tell that he was scared, too, as much as he tried to hide it. He wouldn’t tell me anything, said unless there was official confirmation given to the families, we could assume that everything was okay. I got pissed and said that in the eyes of the DOD, I wasn’t your family, and who the fuck would give me that official confirmation, your mother? That burden would fall to her? No fucking way. He told me that he would never let that happen, that he would fly here in person and make sure I knew, that unless I saw him on my doorstep I was to assume you were alive.”

Zane shook his head, his throat tight. “But after we hung up, I couldn’t stop thinking about the ‘what ifs.’ I couldn’t sleep, so finally I got up and decided to sit on the balcony for a little while. As I passed by the dresser I saw your compass necklace kind of glinting in the moonlight, so I picked it up. I hated the way it felt, the metal so cold when it was always so warm from being against your skin.” He reached out his finger and traced the outline of the compass rose where it lay against Ty’s throat, remembering how Ty had gotten up from their bed that first morning he’d been home, warm and flushed from lovemaking, and brought it to Zane, asking him to put it on him, whispering that he’d never take it off again.

“I took it to the balcony with me, and I sat there with it for hours, just holding it in my hand. Even though I was scared and worried, I knew that I wouldn’t fall apart, that I had people around me who cared about me, who would support me, no matter what happened. I wasn’t alone, and I would be okay. All of a sudden it was important that you know that, and it sounds silly, but I sat there with that necklace in my hand, just saying those words over and over, ‘I’ll be okay, Ty,’ willing you to hear them, to know.

“We had a few close calls,” Ty said quietly. “One in particular. We were pinned down, surrounded, air support was still endless minutes away. One of the guys radioed that he saw an RPG launcher, and we knew it was just a matter of seconds before the hostiles blew our asses to hell. You told me once that you begged for your life in the cartel, so I know you understand when I say this, that when certain death is imminent, a sense of calm comes over you. It’s fatalistic, there’s not anything you can do to change it, and you accept it. I wasn’t afraid for myself, and I’ve never been a praying man, but in those few seconds all I could do was pray over and over, _“Please, watch over my Zane.”_ Because I knew what my death would do to you. 

Then there was a burst of gunfire and the guy with the RPG launcher was killed. Some of our guys had been able to sneak around and flank the enemy, buying us those extra minutes until air support got there and blew _their_ asses to hell.” There was a wealth of satisfaction in Ty’s voice at the memory. “It wasn’t long after that that O’Flaherty got back from the States and brought your letter with him, and somehow I knew that you’d be okay. I always attributed that to my prayer, but maybe it was simply…you, letting me know.”

Zane held him wordlessly for several minutes, and then they made their way up to bed, getting undressed and brushing their teeth without speaking, crawling into bed and wrapping around each other. They didn’t make love, neither of them spoke, they just held each other close in the quiet darkness, exhausted from the emotional overload, until they finally slipped into sleep.

****

Zane woke up early the next morning with gritty eyes and a mouth that felt like cotton. Ty wasn’t next to him but the bed still felt warm, so his lover hadn’t been up long. Their night hadn’t been particularly restful, Ty waking up shouting from a nightmare and startling Zane badly. His lover’s skin had been pale, and clammy, and he’d sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. Zane had coaxed him to lie back down and talked him through the relaxation technique, but this time it hadn’t worked and Ty had gotten up and left the bedroom, telling Zane he wanted to be alone for a little while. Zane hadn’t been able to sleep, and he lay awake until Ty eventually came back to bed, and tentatively Zane had reached for his lover, relieved beyond measure when he let Zane pull him close and wrap around him until they both fell asleep again.

Now Zane made his way downstairs, finding coffee thoughtfully brewed for him, and he poured himself a cup and went in search of Ty. The smell of disinfectant drew him toward their downstairs powder room, and he ran into Ty just emerging, holding a tote containing rubber gloves and several cleaning implements. 

“What’s going on?” Zane asked, looking Ty over carefully. He had purple shadows under his eyes from the interrupted sleep, and he was a little pale.

“Forgot to tell you last night, Deuce called while I was talking to Ma and asked if he could drive down today to talk about wedding plans. I guess Livi has some shopping and stuff planned with her girlfriends, so he and Amelia are on their own today. I thought maybe they could stay for dinner.”

“Of course,” Zane said. “I’m going to a meeting with Sam at eleven, but I should be back by 12:30.”

Ty nodded, and headed back toward the kitchen, flipping on his iPod docking station on the way past. Hard, throbbing rock music blared out, and Zane resisted the urge to turn it back off or at least turn the volume way down. There was something… _off_ about Ty this morning; his lover seemed brittle, like the slightest touch could send him shattering into a million pieces. 

His offer to help clean was refused, so Zane retreated with his coffee and the Sunday paper into the little office, listening to Ty bang around as he dusted and vacuumed, the music blaring. Zane soon had a pounding headache from the noise compounded with not much sleep, so he abandoned the paper and grabbed his iPad, looking up the yoga studio he frequented to see if there were any Sunday morning classes. He could really use the focus and relaxation he achieved from his yoga practice, and he was pleased that there was a class starting in little less than an hour.

He washed out his coffee cup and put it away, then headed upstairs to change for class. He donned the loose track pants that he wore for yoga, and a tight-fitting tank top, shoving his feet into some sneakers and grabbing his yoga mat and gym bag. On his way out, he stopped in the kitchen to fill a water bottle from the fridge dispenser. Ty was scrubbing out the kitchen sink, his skin moist with his exertions. His eyes looked overly bright, almost feverish.

“Are you okay, baby?” Zane asked cautiously, putting his hand on the back of Ty’s neck and stroking his nape with his thumb. He tamped down the hurt when Ty shrugged his hand off impatiently, saying, “Yeah, fine. See you when you get back.”

It was a clear dismissal, and Zane swallowed hard before murmuring, “See you,” picking up his keys and wallet from the basket by the door and heading out to his truck. He sat for a minute before starting the engine, his forehead resting on his hands where they gripped the top of the steering wheel. Ty’s words of a week ago came back to him, his first day back, when he’d told Zane, _“If…when…things get bad, just know that I don’t want to shut you out, to hurt you.”_

Ty was just having a bad day, Zane told himself firmly, starting the truck’s engine and heading toward his class. Ty had been through a lot, he’d only been home from a fucking war zone for a little over a week, and he’d just quit a job that had meant the world to him. Zane was still very concerned about that decision; it had seemed so rash and out of character for his lover. They hadn’t even discussed it as a couple, and Zane felt that surely there would have been some other solution. What’s done was done, but Zane was positive that the feeling of being rudderless was contributing hugely to Ty’s stress.

He reached the yoga studio just in time for the class to start, and after the formal instruction ended, there was time set aside for meditation and deep breathing. Zane took full advantage of the time, retreating deep inside himself and reaching for that calm, that peace, the centeredness. He emerged from the studio an hour and a half later completely refreshed, relaxed and tired, his thoughts blissfully quiet for the moment.

When he reached home, he walked into an immaculate house that smelled of some kind of lemony cleaner. The windows were open, letting a cross-breeze in. Ty was leaning against the kitchen counter drinking a bottle of water, shirtless, wearing a pair of cutoff sweatpants that rode low on his hips. As Zane walked further into the kitchen, Ty lowered the bottle of water, his gaze sliding like hot oil down Zane’s body, and Zane was suddenly aware of how his sweat-soaked tank top was clinging to his torso, how his loose track pants were doing nothing to rein in his reaction to Ty’s avid perusal.

Holding Zane’s eyes with his, Ty stalked toward him, then dropped to his knees and leaned in, nuzzling Zane’s crotch through his pants.

“Jesus, Ty,” Zane gasped. “I’m all sweaty. Stop –“ He groaned as Ty mouthed along the outline of his burgeoning cock through his pants, his fingers sliding up the inside of Zane’s thigh to cup and squeeze his balls.

Ty stood up high on his knees and pushed Zane’s tank top up, kissing and nuzzling Zane’s abdomen, tongue tracing the trail of hair that led from his navel to disappear into the waistband of his pants. Hooking the waistband with his fingers, Ty worked the pants down slowly, licking every new patch of skin that was revealed, until the pants were down around Zane’s thighs. His cock was at full mast, jutting out, the tip weeping with excitement.

“Ty,” Zane choked out. “Let me shower first, I just got done –“ He broke off as Ty buried his nose in Zane’s pubic hair and breathed in deeply, making appreciative noises in the back of his throat, his hand coming back to lift and roll Zane’s balls in his palm. 

“You smell like man, _my_ man,” Ty growled. He breathed in again, then kissed the tip of Zane’s cock, tongue circling the head, teasing the nerves on the underside, tracing the thick vein that pulsed along the length. Zane groaned, his fingers threading through Ty’s hair.

“I want you to fuck my mouth,” Ty’s voice was a hoarse purr as he let the head of Zane’s erection rest on his full lower lip, his hand doing a slow stroke, fingers encircling the shaft. “Hold me by my hair and fuck my mouth.” Zane’s fingers tightened involuntarily, pulling Ty’s hair, and his lover moaned, “Yes. Do it.” With those words, he leaned in and took Zane all the way to the back of his throat.

Zane cried out, his back arching, his fingers tightening and his hips slamming forward. He looked down, panting, seeing Ty with those sinful lips stretched wide around the girth of his cock. Ty flicked his eyes upward to meet Zane’s gaze as he pulled back slowly, using intense suction, until the head rested again on his lower lip. The contrast of the angry purple tip, glistening with saliva, against the swollen red lips of his lover, the submissive pose of Ty on his knees, his eyes holding his, caused Zane to lose control and he grasped Ty roughly by the hair and shoved back in between those full lips, growling, “Suck me.”

Ty moaned in pleasure, folding his arms behind his back, giving himself up fully to Zane’s use, and Zane started an almost brutal rhythm, thrusting to the back of Ty’s throat, his hands in Ty’s hair guiding him, fingers tangled in the thick strands, yanking him forward and back. Zane fucked him hard, his animal grunts of exertion and pleasure filling the small kitchen and spilling out into the street through the open windows. The forbidden excitement of strangers possibly hearing him ratcheted up the intensity, and it wasn’t long before Zane’s orgasm bore down on him like a freight train, and he pulled Ty off his cock, yanking his lover’s head back and coming all over his chin and lips, endless pulses of hot cum that marked Ty as his. Ty was humming encouragement, his hand milking Zane of every drop, his tongue licking him clean from root to head.

“Oh, my God, Ty,” Zane gasped. “Oh, fuck.” He leaned down and hauled Ty to his feet, knowing that when Ty sucked him off like this, he would be hard as a rock and ready to burst. Zane turned and shoved him against the counter, his hand delving between Ty’s legs and cupping him, only to find that his lover was completely limp.

“Ty?” Zane asked uncertainly, his hand squeezing, feeling absolutely no response. Ty’s sweatpants were dry, he hadn’t come, and Zane was completely bewildered. Ty shoved him away so hard that Zane staggered back a few steps, his legs weak from his explosive orgasm and hampered by the pants still around his thighs. He heard Ty snarl “Leave me alone” before snatching up a dishtowel and wiping his face with it, then throwing it to the floor and leaving the room.

“Ty!” Zane called, his gut clenching. The door slamming upstairs was his only response, and Zane yanked up his pants and sank weakly onto the bar stool that was against the island. He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, completely overwhelmed by the events of the last few minutes.

They’d had a _lot_ of sex over the last few days, he told himself. Maybe Ty was just tapped out. But no, he’d initiated what just happened, and his eyes had been hot with excitement and arousal. He had to be turned on to allow himself to be used like that, but for some reason, his cock hadn’t gotten the message. In all their time together, that had never happened before, especially not to Ty, who had the stamina of a bull; Zane was more likely to be the one to need a longer recovery time between intimate moments.

There was more going on here than just a lack of desire, and Zane knew they had to eventually talk about it, but it was obviously a very sensitive subject and Zane decided to give his lover some space, let Ty set the tone for what happened next. He pushed himself to his feet and picked up the soiled dishtowel, taking it to their small laundry room and tossing it in the hamper, then going back to the kitchen and guzzling a bottle of cold water. He realized ruefully that the peace he’d achieved during his yoga class and meditation was completely gone, stress, tension and worry back in full force.

Time crawled by, and eventually Zane heard Ty’s footsteps on the stairs, and his lover re-appeared, freshly showered and dressed in a clean t-shirt and worn, comfortable jeans. His face was forbidding, his body language telling Zane clearly that he didn’t want to discuss what happened, or even acknowledge it in any way. With company coming, Zane didn’t want to push the issue, and he headed for the stairs, saying quietly, “I need to shower and get ready to meet Sam for AA.” 

Ty nodded wordlessly, then called out as Zane started to ascend the stairs, “Why don’t you invite Sam for dinner tonight?” 

Zane nodded. “Good idea. Thanks, baby.” Ty’s lips quirked up in a half-hearted smile, and Zane resumed his trek upstairs, his heart heavy.

He didn’t care about his lover not getting an erection during sex, he was more concerned about Ty’s state of mind and his obvious emotional distress. Zane had no idea how to help him or even how to act, and he hated feeling powerless; it brought back those feelings of inadequacy that he’d had after Becky’s death, the horrible fear he had of failing the one he loved, not being there when they needed him. A drink craving hit suddenly, making his hands shake, and he was fiercely glad he was going to a meeting. He needed it.

He climbed into the shower and stood under the pounding spray for a long time, marshaling his thoughts, and by the time he was out and dressed, he was filled with a new resolve. Yes, he would give Ty his space; what he wouldn’t do was let his lover shut him out completely. He headed downstairs, hearing the ever-present music playing, but at least it was some soulful R&B and not the throbbing rock music that gave Zane such a headache. Ty was in the kitchen cutting up some fruit for lunch.

“I’m leaving,” Zane said, coming up behind Ty and wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling him back against him. Ty immediately stiffened but Zane didn’t relax his hold, instead tightening his arms. He kissed Ty’s hair and leaned down to murmur in his ear, “I love you.” Ty didn’t say anything, but he relaxed back against Zane, letting his head drop to Zane’s shoulder. Zane held him for another minute and then released him, saying, “I should be back by one at the latest. When is Deuce getting here?”

“Right around then. He’s hoping Amelia will nap in the car on the way.”

“Okay, good. I can’t wait to see my li’l punkin’.” Zane bent and kissed Ty gently, lingeringly, before picking up his wallet and keys and heading out the door.

He drove the short distance to the church where the meeting was to be held, waiting for Sam outside until the other man rode up on his ancient bicycle. He didn’t bother locking it up but leaned it against the wall next to the steps to the church, taking one look at Zane and commenting, “You look like you need this meeting. And we’re talking for a while afterward, no argument.” Zane nodded, and they headed inside.

****

A little over an hour later, Zane and Sam sat in their favorite coffee shop in their usual booth way in the back, which afforded a measure of privacy. The waitress brought over a steaming carafe of fresh coffee, and Zane poured them each a cup. They took a few sips, sighing in pleasure, before Sam asked, “What’s going on, son?”

Zane spun his coffee cup back and forth between his palms, looking down at the table, “It’s been a really intense couple of days,” he said quietly. “A lot of highs and lows.”

“In what way?” Sam asked, sipping his coffee.

“I guess it’s kind of a ‘be careful what you wish for’ type of situation,” Zane said ruefully. “I wanted Ty to open up to me, and he did last night more than he has since he’s been back.”

“And you’re seeing some fallout from that?” Sam asked knowingly.

Zane nodded, and Sam continued, “You know, when he cracks that door open to let you in, he’s also letting some poisonous shit out, too.”

“That’s pretty much what he told me, too, his first day back. I’m glad he let me in, but it’s hard to see what he’s going through and feel so helpless and out of my depth.”

“Nobody said you had to ‘fix’ him, Zane. What I said before about being strong enough to help him, I meant it more as getting your shit together so that he didn’t have to worry about you as well as himself.” Sam’s voice was gentle. “You said in meeting that you’d had a drink craving hit you earlier. Are you going to be strong enough?”

“Sam, I’m 44 years old, and I’m just now finding out that being an adult is fucking hard,” Zane said, his tone self-deprecating. “Having to deal with things instead of boxing them away, or drinking them away. Being fully present for someone, willing to be there for them in whatever way they need. Putting someone else first when I’ve never truly done that before in my life. All of that stirs up feelings of inadequacy, and yeah, I had a drink craving. But I didn’t act on it today, and I won’t when it happens again.” 

Sam smiled at him. “That’s all anyone can ask of you, Zane, is that you learn from past mistakes and you don’t let the shit win. Ty is a lucky man.”

“I’m the lucky one,” Zane said quietly. He sipped his coffee, screwing up his courage to change the subject.

“Earlier today, we –“ Zane broke off, wincing. How could he go into something so personal behind Ty’s back? Yet Sam was a war veteran; he might have some insight. 

Sam raised his eyebrows questioningly. Zane could feel a flush creep up his neck as he mumbled, “Earlier today, we had some trouble in the – with – umm –“ he stuttered to a halt, unable to finish.

“In the bedroom?” Sam guessed, his voice soft. Zane nodded.

Sam leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “First, let me reassure you that that has _nothing_ to do with lack of desire. Bluntly put, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you. Do you understand that?”

Zane nodded again.

“Has he been having anxiety attacks?” Sam asked.

“He had one yesterday morning, but it was controlled with some breathing exercises. We’d argued a little, dredged up some painful stuff that I wish we hadn’t, and that seemed to trigger it. On top of that, he had a nightmare last night and was unable to get back to sleep for a long time. Then this morning, he couldn’t –“ Zane broke off again, knowing that Sam got the gist of what he was trying to say.

“Erectile dysfunction is often a side effect of severe anxiety, Zane. You said that he opened up to you last night, and before that you’d argued, and then he had a nightmare. The man is a ball of anxiety. It’s not surprising that that happened. And I doubt he took it well.”

“He didn’t,” Zane said. “And God, I understand that. I gave him some space, but I didn’t let him completely shut down. I just don’t know half the time if I’m doing the right thing.”

Sam pushed his empty coffee cup away and leaned forward with his elbows on the table. He sighed.

“I experienced the same problem after I returned home from war. It got to where I’d avoid my wife, afraid that she’d want to make love and I couldn’t satisfy her. I started sleeping in the spare room, denying her the intimacy of even having me in bed with her at night. She in turn felt rejected, unwanted, and so when that incident I told you about happened, the one where I slapped her, our marriage was already circling the drain.”

Zane knew that Sam and his wife were still together, they hadn’t divorced, so he asked, “What happened? Do you mind telling me?”

“I’ve got one word for you…Viagra.” Sam chuckled when Zane blanched, a look of horror on his face.

“Imagining telling Ty that he should go on Viagra?”

Zane nodded wordlessly, unable to wrap his mind around even suggesting –

“I had that same reaction when our therapist made that recommendation, too. I was a young man, I didn’t need some old-man boner pills! The therapist looked me in the eye and said, ‘You’d let your macho pride prevent you from taking this huge step toward repairing your marriage?’ She was right, re-establishing intimacy was a first step, a good place to start, and I wanted to be able to make love to my wife.”

“It was just the one time,” Zane whispered. “I just can’t see bringing something like that up to him, at least not now.”

“If you don’t feel the time is right, then don’t. But if it keeps happening, don’t let the distance grow between you, let him know that there are solutions. And there’s no shame in needing some help. Even though PTSD is classified as a mental disorder, in reality it’s a physical condition that affects the whole body. Understanding that helps decrease the stigma so many warriors feel is attached to PTSD. It doesn’t have anything to do with being weak, or vulnerable, it’s the way the body and mind have reacted to the extreme stress put on it under combat conditions.”

Zane nodded, then reached across the table and grasped Sam’s forearm. “Thank you. You’ve helped me in so many ways, I can never repay you.”

Sam smiled, covering Zane’s hand with his and patting it. “Yes, you can,” he said quietly. “Never touch another drop of alcohol and I will consider this a job well done.”

****

Zane arrived home just as Deuce was pulling up to the curb. He got out of his truck and jogged over to Deuce’s sleek black SUV, yanking the back door open and leaning in, “Hey, punkin’!”

Amelia’s face was streaked with tears but she smiled involuntarily when she saw Zane, reaching for him as her little face crumpled again and she started to cry. “Awww, sweetheart, what’s the matter?” He unbuckled her from her car seat and lifted her out, perching her on his hip, bouncing her up and down.

Deuce appeared next to him, his hand smoothing down his daughter’s back. “She just woke up, and she’s probably wet,” he said ruefully. “After a change and a snack, she’ll be okay.” He took Amelia from Zane, slinging her diaper bag over his shoulder.

“I’ll grab the rest of her stuff,” Zane said. “Go on inside and find Uncle Ty.” Amelia stopped crying and smiled again at the sound of the familiar name, and she scrabbled at the diaper bag hanging next to her, looking for the picture. Zane found it and held it up, and she grabbed it and kissed it, making both men laugh.

Suddenly the front door opened and the man himself appeared on the stoop, a welcoming smile on his face. He’d just started down the steps when Amelia suddenly gave a loud wail, her discomfort and hunger overwhelming her. She started to cry pitifully, and Deuce rolled his eyes at Zane. “Okay, let me see to her. Her portable crib and high chair are in the back if you could grab them.”

Both men turned toward Ty and stopped cold. Ty’s face was white as a sheet, and he’d flung himself backwards and was pressed against the wall next to the front door. His mouth was moving but Zane couldn’t hear what he was saying over Amelia’s cries. Zane’s gut seized in fear at the look in Ty’s eyes; they looked like black holes in the stark whiteness of his face, burning. In the space of a heartbeat, Deuce thrust Amelia and her bag at Zane, saying tersely, “I’ve got him. Keep her over here until I figure out what’s going on.”

Zane retreated to the back of the SUV, watching as Deuce approached Ty slowly, his hands out in front of him non-threateningly. Zane could see that Ty was shouting at his brother, and his eyes were distant, unfocused, like he was seeing something else other than what was happening right in front of him. _“Flashback,”_ Zane thought, his gut a churning mass of agony and the need to go to his lover. _But he has the best possible help right now,_ he told himself. _A psychiatrist, and a brother who loves him._

Zane forced himself to focus on Amelia, soothing her, setting her down in the cavernous cargo space in the back of the SUV and pulling out a few of her toys, trying to amuse her as best he could. He peeked around the corner of the SUV and could see Deuce now speaking earnestly to Ty, and he put his arm around his older brother’s shoulders and steered him inside the house.

Zane kept Amelia busy, finding some crackers for her in the diaper bag and letting her feed him some, pretending to bite her fingers, her watery smiles and giggles helping to keep his gut from turning into a total block of ice. He started when Deuce suddenly appeared at his elbow.

“I think it’s okay to take her inside,” he said, reaching for his daughter.

“Deuce, what’s going on?” Zane asked. “Is it some kind of flashback?”

“Yes,” Deuce said grimly. “He’s come out of it, and he’s in the backyard, going to work on his car, which is the best thing he can do right now. He needs something intricate to occupy his mind, and –“

“Jesus, Deuce, you’re not going to leave, are you?” Zane hated the panic running through his voice, but he was frankly terrified. “I don’t know what to do –“ Deuce clasped his shoulder reassuringly.

“Of course I’m not going to leave,” he said. “But I need to be out there with him, keep an eye on him. Do you mind watching Amelia?”

“Of course not,” Zane said fervently. “Please help him, Deuce.” Deuce smiled reassuringly at Zane, but his eyes were worried. He carried Amelia into the house and Zane gathered up her portable crib and high chair and lugged them inside.

For the next couple of hours, Zane took care of Amelia, playing with her, reading to her, following her around as she explored. Through the open window, he could hear the sounds of Ty working on his car, the two men talking quietly, and occasionally a burst of laughter. Zane was glad to hear it, although Ty still sounded subdued.

Around 4:30 there was a knock on the door and Zane opened it to see Sam standing there, remembering suddenly that he’d invited the other man for dinner. Sam looked questioningly at him, and Zane wondered what his face looked like…probably furrowed with stress and worry. Amelia was perched on his hip, and Sam turned his attention to her. “Well, hello, young lady. What’s your name?”

“Mimi,” she exclaimed proudly, patting herself on the chest. Both men laughed, and Sam picked up her little hand, shaking it as he said, “I’m Sam.” She turned and pressed her face into Zane’s neck, suddenly shy, and Sam chuckled again. “She’s precious.”

Zane led the way inside the house and set her down. She immediately grabbed some of her toys and toddled over to Sam, showing them to him and babbling earnestly, telling him all about them. Seeing that she was occupied and looked after for the moment, Zane said quietly, “Is it okay if I run outside and check on Ty?”

“Of course,” Sam said. “We’ll be fine.” He took Amelia’s stuffed bear from her as she held it out to him, exclaiming over it appropriately. “I have a grandson not much older than this.” He look turned sharp. “Did something happen?”

Zane scrubbed his hands over his face. “Yeah, but I don’t know what exactly,” he said in frustration. “His brother is with him, and –“

“Go check on him. We’ll be fine,” Sam repeated, turning back to Amelia and distracting her so that Zane could slip out into the backyard. He stood and watched the other two men for a moment, getting a feel for the current mood.

Ty was bent over the engine, tinkering with something, occasionally holding his hand out for another tool that Deuce would hand to him. They seemed to be talking easily, and Zane could hear it was about the upcoming wedding, Deuce bemoaning the intricate planning that seemed to be involved and all the decisions he had to make.

“All I want to do is marry the girl, you know?” he said plaintively. “What do I care about the color of the tablecloths at the reception, or whether we should cover the chairs with something called ‘tulle?’”

“What the fuck is ‘tulle?’” Ty asked, his voice muffled by his position bent over the car.

“Something very important, apparently,” Deuce said drily, noticing Zane approaching and shaking his head warningly. Zane got the message; keep it easy, keep it light.

Ty straightened up, seeing Zane, and Zane smiled at him, “Hey, baby.” He stepped close and rested his hand on the small of Ty’s back, slipping under his lover’s t-shirt and stroking his fingers against the warm skin. He leaned in for a kiss, happy when Ty responded readily. Their lips lingered, and then Zane pulled reluctantly away, fighting the urge to wrap Ty up in his arms and just protect him from all the ugliness, the fear.

“I’m about to order from Chiaparelli’s,” he murmured. “You hungry?”

“As a horse,” Ty said with a faint smile, his fingers trailing along Zane’s arm. Zane kissed him again, then headed back inside, catching Deuce’s reassuring smile out of the corner of his eye.

He called in a large order to Chiaparelli’s, gratified when Letitia said she’d send Ryan over with it so Zane didn’t have to make the trip to pick it up. He thanked her profusely.

Amelia was playing quietly with Sam, so Zane lugged her portable crib upstairs and set it up in the spare bedroom in case she fell asleep before Deuce was ready to leave for home. He did a few other busywork type things, trying not to think too much, then made his way back downstairs to join Amelia and Sam in the living room.

Eventually Deuce appeared, and Zane introduced him to Sam, spending a few minutes on superficial small talk. Amelia had started to fuss when she saw her daddy, so Deuce scooped her up, taking her off for a change and saying that he would fix her something to eat when he got back.

“Everything okay, Zane?” Sam asked.

“At the moment,” Zane said, standing at the back door and watching his lover, who was picking up his tools and straightening up his work area outside.

“If you think it’s better for me not to be here –“ Sam began, and Zane shook his head.

“Honestly, I think Ty wanted you here as a buffer against me and Deuce,” Zane explained, “so we wouldn’t force him to talk about anything. Little does he know that you are probably better informed about his situation than his own brother. I’d like you to stay, maybe you’d have some insight you can share with me later after you’ve watched him for a while. I’ll take whatever I can get at this point.”

Sam patted Zane on the shoulder. “Of course.”

Deuce re-appeared with Amelia in tow, bouncing her on his hip and making her squeal. “Got a hungry little girl here!”

He plopped her in her high chair and gave her some Cheerios to munch on while he delved into the diaper bag and pulled out an insulated lunch kit, setting out various containers. Zane watched with amusement as Deuce prepared her meal, heating up what looked like ravioli, testing the temperature with his finger and cutting them in half, testing them again before putting the little bowl down on Amelia’s tray along with some cut-up strawberries and a small container of vanilla yogurt. She had a big plastic spoon and she happily set to work scooping up small bites of food, some of it making it to her mouth but a lot of it spilling down her front, which Deuce had covered with a large bib. Before long her face was stained with tomato sauce, her little hands red with strawberry juice. Deuce filled her sippy cup with cold water and handed it to her, and she reached up to him. He leaned down and gave her a smacking kiss on her cheek, licking his lips ruefully at the taste of second-hand tomato sauce. 

“Never thought I’d see a Grady boy being so domestic,” Zane teased. “You’re a regular little Suzy Homemaker.”

“Shut up, Garrett,” Deuce muttered. “Not my fault two beautiful ladies have me wrapped around their pinky fingers.” He smiled at his daughter, leaning down to rub her tiny nose with his.

Zane heard the backyard screen door slam, and Ty disappeared upstairs, calling, “Let me wash up real quick. Food here?”

“Should be any minute now,” Zane called back, heading to the cupboards and grabbing some plates to start setting the table. He handed Deuce and Sam cans of cold soda, and before long Ty appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. Zane watched him out of the corner of his eye as his lover lingered for a moment, appearing to take a deep breath, before coming up behind Amelia, running his hand over her hair. “Hey, there’s my little sweetheart –“

Amelia tipped her head back to look at who was talking to her, in all her tomato-sauce-covered glory, and Zane was ready with a teasing remark when he heard Ty make a noise of almost animal pain, staggering back a step. Just then there was a knock on the front door and Ryan pushed it open and poked his head in, “Knock, knock. Food’s here!” Deuce and Sam hadn’t noticed Ty’s reaction, and Zane watched in dawning horror as Ty slowly backed against the nearest wall, appearing to shake.

Ryan headed into the kitchen and set two large plastic bags on the counter, reaching inside and unloading several containers, pulling drawers open and taking out some large serving spoons and tongs, uncovering everything and getting it ready. Deuce and Sam were exclaiming over the spread of food, and Ryan whisked everything to the table. Ty was definitely shaking, white as a sheet, and Zane needed Ryan out of there. He pulled his wallet out, extracting a larger-than-average tip, handing it to Ryan, putting his arm around the younger man’s shoulders and steering him toward the door with hastily-muttered thanks. Ryan gave him a wide grin when he saw the tip, and as he left he patted Zane’s shoulder with a happy, “Thanks, Zane. Later.”

Zane turned toward back to Ty, then reeled back at the look of rage now burning in his lover’s eyes. “Ty?”

“Tell me something, Zane,” Ty hissed, advancing on him. “How many times did you fuck him while I was gone?”

Zane stiffened in shock. _“What?”_

“How many times did you fuck him?” Ty repeated, forcing the words out between gritted teeth. “Did you have him in our bed, bend him over the counter? How many times!” His voice had risen to a shout, and out of the corner of his eye Zane saw Sam pluck Amelia from her high chair and whisk her upstairs.

“Ty, what –“ Deuce began, and Ty whirled on him. 

“Shut the fuck up and stay out of this!” Ty’s eyes were wild. “I want to know how many times the man I love fucked that hot young stud, the one who is _way_ too familiar with where everything is in _my_ fucking house! Who just walks his tight little ass in here and starts opening drawers like he owns the place. Cooking lessons, my ass, Zane! Were you doing him there, too?”

“Ty, no,” Zane whispered, horrified and anguished beyond belief at his lover’s accusation. “Never, ever. “

Ty was toe to toe with Zane, in his face, until Deuce moved forward and said firmly, “Beaumont, take a step back.” For five long seconds Ty didn’t move, and then he turned and slammed out of the door into the backyard. Zane and Deuce stood rooted in place, gaping at each other, until a series of grating crashes sounded from outside. They both rushed to the door, exclaiming in horror when they saw that Ty had picked up a crowbar and was swinging it at his car, large dents appearing in the hood as he smashed it down over and over.

With a cry of anguish, Zane started forward, elbowing Deuce aside when the other man tried to stop him. He ran toward Ty, going low and tackling him to the ground, the impact knocking the crowbar from Ty’s hands. Ty was a writhing fury, and Zane wondered distantly if his lover had enough control left not to snap Zane’s neck like a matchstick. He managed somehow to get Ty wrapped up completely in his arms and legs, holding him tight, trying to anchor him, ground him. Ty fought for another moment, then went limp. Suddenly Deuce was there kneeling awkwardly next to them, and Ty elbowed Zane in the gut, snarling, “Get off me.” Zane let him go, and Deuce put an arm around Ty’s shoulders, murmuring to him. Suddenly a great wracking sob burst from him, then another, the sounds ripping from his chest in big heaving gasps. Deuce wrapped him up and held him tight, rocking him there on the ground.

“Easy, big brother,” he said soothingly. “It’ll be okay, Ty. It’ll be okay.”

Zane retreated and watched helplessly, his eyes stinging, his hands clenched into fists as he watched Deuce comfort his brother, holding him, talking nonsense to him, until Ty’s sobs finally started to ease in intensity, until he was just breathing hard, tears running down his face.

Zane turned and trudged back inside the house, giving them some privacy. His legs were shaking and he felt like he was going to collapse. Footsteps sounded on the stairs and suddenly Sam was in front of him.

“Amelia?” Zane asked hoarsely, and Sam put his finger to his lips and said, “Asleep.”

Zane felt weary to his soul as he whispered, “Sam, thank you for looking out for her. I –“

Sam gripped his shoulder, his voice gentle as he said, “Remember what I told you about the reflex of controlling fear through anger. Give him a chance to explain.”

Zane nodded, and Sam patted him on the shoulder before moving to the front door. “And this is a lot to handle, Zane. If you need a meeting, or need me, I’m just a phone call away.” Zane nodded again, and Sam let himself out through the door and was gone.

Zane sank to the bottom step and buried his head in his hands, his eyes burning. He didn’t know how long he sat there until he heard the back door open, and he looked up to see Deuce standing in front of him. 

Zane looked toward the backyard. “Ty?”

“He’ll be in in a minute. He wanted some time to get himself together, and then we’re all going to talk.”

“What happened, Deuce?” Zane moaned, his throat tight. 

Deuce lowered himself awkwardly to the step next to Zane, sighing heavily. “Memories of traumatic events aren’t stored in the same parts of the brain as other memories and thoughts.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Just bear with me a moment. Memories of traumatic events are stored in a deeper part of the brain called the limbic system, which control survival reflexes and connect directly to everything that’s necessary for survival, including adrenaline, breathing, heart rate, et cetera. Adrenaline and rage go hand in hand. For a warrior, it’s necessary to help you focus, make you stronger, help you to fight.”

“And anger helps to control fear,” Zane whispered.

“Exactly. Every warrior knows how to harness that adrenaline and anger to control their fear so they are able to fight. Except limbic system memories are not under our conscious control, Zane. That part of our brain is – basically it’s more primitive, more animal, than the rational thinking portion of our brain. Limbic memories aren’t logical, and they can be extremely emotionally charged images, sounds, smells, thoughts.”

“Is that what happened, something triggered those limbic memories?”

Deuce nodded. “He wasn’t thinking rationally when he accused you of what he accused you of. He was hopped up on pure adrenaline and fear, and anger was instantaneous. He had no control at that moment.”

“Jesus,” Zane whispered. “What can we do?”

“Figure out what triggered that extreme response is the first step,” Deuce said wearily. 

“It was Amelia,” Zane said in horror. “He saw her, and he turned white and started shaking. It was just then that Ryan came in and –“ Zane closed his eyes, hearing again Ty’s voice accusing him of fucking another man.

Deuce patted his knee comfortingly, and then the sound of the back door opening made them both look up. Ty stood there, filthy, leaves and grass in his hair, tear tracks streaking through the dirt on his face. His eyes were distant, empty, and Zane’s heart clutched in fear. Deuce gripped his knee warningly, then said to Ty, “Help me up?”

Ty came forward with his hand outstretched, and Deuce reached up and grabbed it, letting Ty haul him to his feet.

“Let’s take a few minutes and let Ty get cleaned up, okay? I need to call Livi and tell her that I’m staying the night. I don’t have any patients scheduled this week because of the wedding planning, so it’s no problem if I don’t go home tonight.”

“I’ll fix up the futon for you, then,” Zane said quietly, glad to have some tasks to focus on. Ty wouldn’t look at him, just stood staring at the ground. “Amelia is asleep in there but I can do it without much noise.” Ty flinched the tiniest bit at the sound of Amelia’s name, but he didn’t say anything.

“Come on, big brother,” Deuce said. “Let’s go get cleaned up.” They headed up the stairs, and after a few minutes Zane heard the shower start. He went into the kitchen and repacked the untouched food, storing it in the fridge, wondering if he’d ever feel like eating again; his stomach was churning and in hard knots.

After he finished straightening the kitchen, he slipped upstairs and into the spare bedroom, folding the futon out flat and covering it with a sheet and blanket, putting a pillow in a fresh case. He checked on Amelia, who was sound asleep on her tummy, her little bottom in the air. Zane noticed she was wearing a pair of footie pajamas, her sweet face scrubbed clean of the tomato sauce. He gripped the edges of the portable crib for a moment, breathing a prayer of thanks for Sam, who had shown himself over and over to be the most loyal of friends.

Zane went back downstairs and put on a pot of coffee to brew, puttering around until both men reappeared. Deuce accepted Zane’s offer of coffee, and they took their mugs into the living room. Ty flopped into a recliner, his body language stiff and forbidding. Zane and Deuce took seats on the couch, and for a long time nobody said anything.

Ty’s voice, hoarser than usual, startled Zane when he said flatly, “Our missions are still classified, but I can tell you that our team was assigned to locate and surveil a local man who was thought to be brokering arms deals between the Pakistanis and Al-Qaeda. We believed we knew where his base of operations was, a small village about 30 clicks away. We’d spent weeks just watching, gathering intel, trying to get something we could use to justify calling in the cavalry and taking the bastards out.”

Zane nodded wordlessly.

“There was a family of shepherds that lived in the village, a man living with some women and children, and I decided to try and cultivate him as an informant. From the endless surveillance we’d done, this particular man seemed to have no use for the insurgents who’d appear now and then in his village, keeping well away from them, usually taking his family and disappearing into the hills with their herd of sheep and goats when the hostiles arrived.”

Ty swallowed and looked at his hands. “It took a while, but I finally was able to make contact with him. Since I speak the language and didn’t have to go through a terp, an interpreter, it made it easier for him to trust me. He wanted assurances that he and his family would be kept safe. I promised him that we wouldn’t let any harm come to them.”

Zane closed his eyes, remembering his own days of cultivating informants, how one of the fundamental rules was never to make promises to them you weren’t sure you could keep, but in reality, out in the field, things were said, promises were made, anything to ‘seal the deal.’

Ty stood up and started to pace, opening and closing his fingers in agitation.

“For about two months he served as our informant, listening as much as possible to what was going on when the insurgents were in the village, noticing what was happening, trying to find out anything that could help us bring down that group and their arms suppliers across the Pakistani border.”

Zane clutched his coffee cup, Ty’s rising tension starting to affect him.

“One day he wasn’t at our scheduled meeting spot. We waited for hours, thinking he’d been delayed, that it wasn’t safe to slip out of the village. Finally I took a couple of guys with me, left the rest to watch our sixes, and we approached the village, getting as close as we dared.”

Ty described how he and the other two men had flattened out on a cliff that afforded a clear view of the village, using high-powered binoculars to surveil the scene, looking for anything out of place.

“The man’s house looked quiet, too quiet. He lived with his wife, their daughter and her three small children. Usually there were dogs and kids running in and out, but this time there was this silence. The whole village was silent, like everybody was hiding inside, not daring to make a sound.”

Zane thought of Ty’s need for constant background noise, music or TV, and his heart ached; to Ty, silence had become threatening instead of calming.

“Suddenly the doors to one of the hovels opened and the two women in our informant’s family were dragged out and thrown to the ground. They were bloody, bruised, like they’d been beaten and – maybe worse.”

Deuce made a noise involuntarily, and Ty’s head swiveled to look at him. “Then the kids were dragged out from another part of the village. They looked unharmed, but they were, of course, crying and screaming. The youngest one was not quite two, I think, from what our informant had said. At the time I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to his personal information, I was more interested in what he could tell us that was mission essential.”

Zane knew from his own experience that an informant wasn’t really a person to his handler, but a tool. Private info and details were ignored unless considered to be leverage.

“We were too far away to hear exactly what was being said, but the gist was obvious. They held the women on their knees and were threatening the kids in front of them, threatening to cut their throats if they didn’t reveal the location of the man. I had already assumed by that point that he was hiding somewhere and not already in the insurgents’ custody. And how he was betrayed, and by whom, I had no clue. We were so careful not to be seen, and our contacts with him were spaced far enough apart that it shouldn’t have aroused any suspicion.”

Zane said softly, “It’s more likely that he gave himself away, confided in someone he thought he could trust, or behaved suspiciously when he was trying to gather information for you.”

“The mother of the kids broke at that point, and I could see her gesturing to the hills and saying, ‘Cave. Cave,” by reading her lips. She was begging for her kids’ lives, she told them what they wanted to know, and then the bastards did it anyway…cut the kids’ throats in front of their mother and grandmother. All three of them, even the baby.” Zane heard Deuce gasp in horror, and he felt the blood draining from his own face.

Ty’s voice was flat, emotionless. “They let the women go, let them rush to the bodies and gather them up, let them wail and scream and rock them, and suddenly our informant came running from the base of the hills behind his house where he’d obviously been hiding. All I could do was watch as the insurgents captured and beheaded him in front of the women, then killed them, too. An entire family wiped out. Because of me.”

“No, Ty!” Deuce exclaimed, his voice a little unsteady. “Not because of you, because of the insurgents! _They_ did that to them, not you.”

“But he was working for me, and working for me was what caused their deaths,” Ty argued, his voice rising a little.

“It was a risk he was obviously willing to take, to stand up for what he believed in, to fight the insurgency,” Zane said. “He went into it with his eyes open; you didn’t coerce him.”

“When they first brought the women out, I had radioed my Top and requested permission to intervene. My request was denied based on the fact it would compromise our mission, which was fact-finding, not aggression.” Ty’s voice turned harsh and bitter as he continued, “And it was bullshit, because no way would the assholes use that village anymore after it had been compromised by an informant! There was no reason we couldn’t have lit those motherfuckers up and saved those people! Fuck it all, I had a clear shot, and there were only six of the bastards; I could have taken them out in ten seconds flat!” Ty slammed his hand down on the back of the couch. “I could have saved those people, but I had to follow orders, had to follow the rules of engagement.”

Zane ached to go to his lover, to comfort him, but he forced himself to stay still on the couch. There wasn’t anything he could do at the moment except listen.

“The insurgents left the village finally, leaving the bodies in a heap in the dirt as a warning to anyone else who might want to help the allied forces. Eventually the other inhabitants crept out, and gathered them up for burial. One of them lifted the – lifted the baby. Her head had almost been severed, the cut was so deep. Her face was covered with blood, and –“ he broke off, his voice choked. “And all I could see was the way she’d been crying and reaching for her mother. That little baby was so scared, they all were, and I was holding a goddamn M-4 in my hand and I’d never been so helpless in my life.” 

The anguish in his voice finally drove Zane to his feet, and he approached Ty slowly, not sure of his reception. He stepped close and put his hand on the back of Ty’s neck, his thumb stroking soothingly. Ty dropped his forehead to Zane’s shoulder, and Zane’s hand slid up to cup the back of his head, his other arm wrapping around Ty’s waist and holding him close.

“Now you know,” Ty whispered, “and you’ll never get those images out of your head. Welcome to my nightmare, Zane.”

“Ty,” Zane murmured against his lover’s temple, “I would gladly share your nightmares, every single one of them, if you’d let me.”

Ty sighed, and his arms crept around Zane’s waist and he let Zane pull him even closer. They stood there for several minutes, taking comfort from each other.

Finally Ty pulled back, looking up into Zane’s face. “Baby, I’m so sorry for what I said about you and Ryan. That was way out of line. I know he’s just your friend. I have no excuse. I’m just – I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Zane whispered. Ty smiled sadly, and moved away.

“I’m going to take a walk, clear my head,” he said. “Maybe stop at the pub for a couple of beers.” He waved his hand when Deuce stood up. “No, I’d rather be alone right now. Don’t worry, okay? If I’m not home by,“ he checked his watch, “eleven, come down to the pub and find me.”

He turned and left the house, and suddenly Zane heard a muffled sob next to him and he turned in time to see Deuce sink back onto the couch, his face buried in his hands and his shoulders shaking. Zane realized in that moment that he wasn’t looking at Dr. Grady, Super Psychiatrist With All the Answers, but Deuce, a brother and a father, who had just heard one of the most horrifying stories imaginable. Zane sat down next to him and put his hand on Deuce’s shoulder, letting him get it out.

“Fuck, Zane,” Deuce said finally, his voice hoarse. He lifted up the hem of his t-shirt and wiped his eyes. “I’ve read a little about PTSD and I know the basics, but actually treating someone who’s been through what Ty’s been through is a whole different matter. He needs to see someone who specializes in treatment of combat veterans.”

“You and I both know that, but he won’t do it, Deuce. Fighting with him about it would take up a lot of precious energy that none of us would be able to spare.”

“I know, and so I guess I’m going to have to educate myself real quick. Because he can’t do this alone. And I don’t mean you’re not there for him, Zane, I know you are. But his mental health and quality of life is at stake here.”

“I think you and I are going to be it, Deuce, but I do have some insight from another source.” He quickly told Deuce about his various conversations with Sam, leaving out the Viagra issue completely, and Deuce nodded. “Good. Insight from a combat veteran is going to be invaluable. Poor Sam, an AA sponsor and a PTSD consultant.”

“The thing about Sam, he’s glad to do it. He doesn’t want to see anyone who’s served their country go through the hell that he went through. It’s a way of paying it forward, I guess.”

Deuce scrubbed his hands over his face. “And I know Ty had to have gone through some kind of pre- and post-deployment mental health assessments! That’s standard for men and women that are deploying to Iraq or Afghanistan.” Zane nodded; he remembered Ty going to those appointments.

“And they didn’t catch anything? Fucking incompetents!”

Zane looked at Deuce incredulously. “Have you _met_ Ty Grady? The man could convince Eskimos that they needed to invest in A/C units!” Both men chuckled mirthlessly, and then Zane said quietly, “Deception comes easily to Ty, Deuce.”

Deuce nodded and said ruefully, “I know that. He could fool an overworked, stressed-out military health provider without breaking a sweat.”

Deuce took a deep breath. “Well, he won’t be able to fool me,” he said with determination. “I have a stake in this, because I want my daughter to have a relationship with my brother at the end of the day. And maybe that takes away my impartiality, but if I’m the only line of defense my brother has, I don’t give a fuck.”

Zane held up his fist. “To not giving a fuck.” Deuce bumped Zane’s knuckles with his, and said, “Oo-rah, motherfucker.”

****

The next morning, Zane sat in the Boring Meeting from Hell, his thoughts drifting. He didn’t have to present anything, and he’d wanted to call in and say he wouldn’t be there, but Deuce had encouraged him to carry on with his routine.

_“Ty doesn’t need you to stay home and appear to babysit him,” Deuce said firmly. “I already told him that I’m staying a couple of days so we can work out some stuff before I need to go and focus on my wedding. It’s not like we can live in Ty’s pockets, or roll him in bubble wrap and lock him away. This is going to be his fight, all we can do is be there for him and try and give him the tools he needs to cope.”_

_Zane thought of his own battles over the past couple of years, and he knew Deuce was right. Nothing was going to be fixed overnight, and recovery from anything, alcohol addiction or life-changing traumatic experiences, was an ever-evolving, fluid endeavor. It was hard to sit back and watch someone you love in pain, though, and Deuce was careful to point out, “Be sure you’re not neglecting yourself, Zane. Keep yourself as mentally and emotionally healthy as possible. Keep up your yoga practice, your journaling, and your AA. Do things for yourself, things you enjoy. Promise me that. Promise Ty that.”_

Zane had promised, and now he sat, trying to focus on topics that he didn’t give a flying fuck about, not today. The night before Deuce had insisted that they not wait around in the living room like anxious parents awaiting their daughter’s return from the prom.

_“I’m going to bed, because Amelia will get up at the crack of dawn and I need some sleep. I also want to email a couple of colleagues first thing, pick their brain a little about what course of action I should take.”_

_Deuce had stood up, looking down at Zane with compassion in his eyes. “Go to bed and try to sleep, Zane. He’ll be back by eleven. He won’t worry us like that, not after what we’ve all been through tonight.”_

_Zane had gone up to bed, trying to read for a while but giving up that pretense after a few minutes. Instead, he’d pulled out his laptop and opened his email program, setting up a new email to MeowMix2009, his dummy account for Ty, and he poured out his feelings into an email that Ty would never see, letting out his hurt and anger over being accused of fucking a young man that Zane considered a friend, and his anguish over the horrifying story his lover had related. He didn’t hold anything back, his fingers flying over the keys, impatiently wiping his eyes with the back of his hand now and then. When he was done he felt better, and he knew that when he actually talked about these things with the man he loved, it would be easier to follow the first rule for Communication 101, emphasized over and over in AA, which was to use “I” statements instead of “you” statements, being able to say, “I feel hurt when you shut me out,” rather than, “You always make me feel like shit when you shut me out.” Zane knew that keeping an open line of communication with Ty would mean the difference between them making it or not, and “not” wasn’t an option._

_Zane had finally put away his laptop and shut off the light, lying awake until he heard Ty creep in about 10:30. His lover went into the bathroom and Zane heard the sounds of him washing his face and brushing his teeth, rinsing with mouthwash before coming over to the bed. He sat down next to Zane and leaned over him, his hands on either side of Zane’s shoulders._

_“I know you’re not asleep, baby,” he’d murmured, leaning down to brush Zane’s lips with his. Zane hummed, opening for Ty’s tongue, which had traced over Zane’s mouth before dipping inside, the taste of the minty toothpaste strong. Zane had cupped the back of Ty’s head, encouraging him to deepen the kiss even further, and they spent several pleasurable minutes sucking and nipping at each other’s mouths until Zane was breathing hard and aroused. He was a little disappointed when Ty climbed into bed next to him without initiating anything further, but Zane wasn’t about to push it. They lay there on their backs with their hands clasped together between them, not speaking, until Zane fell asleep._

_He’d slept deeply until awoken a few hours later by the sound of gasping breaths next to him. Thinking Ty was having another nightmare, Zane had rolled toward him in concern, then stopped as he realized Ty was breathing hard for an entirely different reason. His lover was on his back, one hand thrown up over his head and clutching the bars of the headboard, the other hand stroking himself, his cock gloriously hard and obviously ready to burst. When Ty saw that Zane was awake, he abandoned all effort at being quiet, pulling his knees up and letting them fall to the side, planting his feet on the bed and thrusting up into his fist._

_“Yes,” Zane had hissed, scooting closer and delving between Ty’s legs to cup his heavy balls, rolling them in his palm while he whispered hotly in Ty’s ear, “Come for me, gorgeous.” Ty had arched his back, and he’d turned his head and bit down into Zane’s shoulder, stifling his cry as his cock spasmed in his hand, ropes of cum splattering against his belly and chest._

_“So beautiful,” Zane had murmured. “So fucking beautiful.”_

_When Ty finally quieted, Zane got up from the bed and brought him a warm washcloth, watching as Ty cleaned himself up, and then Zane pulled him close. “Sleep in my arms. Please. I need you.”_

_Ty had nodded and snuggled down, and Zane had sighed deeply, his lips feathering over Ty’s temple as he breathed, “I love you.”_

_“Love you, too,” was the whispered response. “More than you’ll ever fucking know.”_

Zane came back to the present with a jolt as people around him starting getting up, the meeting obviously over. The pleasurable thoughts of the last few minutes had had the expected result, and so he sat for a little while longer, appearing to be going over some notes, before he felt presentable enough to stand. 

As he walked toward his office he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, pleased to see that he had a missed call from Ty. He called him back, gratified by his lover’s easy, “Hey,” when he picked up the phone.

“Hey, yourself,” Zane said, knowing his smile was obvious in his voice.

“Don’t leave the office at five, just wait there, ‘cause I’m coming to you,” Ty said, and Zane felt his smile widening at the warmth in Ty’s voice.

“Oh? And what are you going to do with me when you get here?” Zane teased.

“Deep, dark things, baby,” Ty whispered hotly. 

“Yeah?” Zane whispered back, heat pooling down low. “Like maybe whatever it was you were thinking about last night that made you come so hard?” His voice had dropped to a growl and he shivered as Ty groaned under his breath.

“Jesus, Zane, keep that up and I’m going to need to do it again.” 

Zane pressed the heel of his hand against his suddenly raging erection. “And I’m praying to whatever god is out there that nobody walks into my office right now, because they will get an eyeful.” He took deep breaths, willing his cock to behave.

Ty’s voice was still a little gravelly as he said, “I’m coming to take you out to dinner. I made reservations downtown for 6:00, so I’ll be there around 5:30 or so, okay?”

“Can’t wait,” Zane murmured. “It’s been a while since we went out on a proper date.”

“I know, and Deuce and Amelia are here through tomorrow and I just want you all to myself for a little while.”

Zane knew he was grinning like a fool when he finally hung up, and all through the rest of his workday he savored the anticipation and pleasure of his upcoming date with the man he loved. Right at 5:30 Ty walked in, and Zane caught his breath. Ty was wearing his blue suit, the one that made Zane want to rip him right out of it again…with his teeth. It had been more than six months since Zane had seen his lover in a suit, and he looked incredible, strong and confident, smiling easily at Clancy, who had jumped up to hug him.

“Hey, stranger!” she said, squeezing him tight. He hugged her back and then set her away, holding her by the shoulders and smiling down at her.

Alston and Perrimore came up to shake his hand, and for a few minutes there was a lot of teasing and catching up, laughter ringing out. Zane smiled as he watched his lover interact with his former co-workers.

Finally Ty broke away, coming up to Zane and slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Sorry, guys, we need to get going. We have a dinner reservation in a few minutes.” Clancy looked at the two of them side by side, and she shook her head, muttering, “Such a waste,” as she waved her hand at them and disappeared out the door for home.

Alston and Perrimore walked them down, Alston quizzing Ty about his plans now that he was out of the Bureau, but Ty was non-committal, softening up his non-answers with genuine smiles. Alston shook his hand again before leaving, and Perrimore clapped him on the back. “Don’t be a stranger, Grady. We miss you around here.”

“Where are we going?” Zane said, holding the door open for Ty as they left the building. Ty smiled and took Zane’s hand, lacing their fingers together as they ambled down the busy sidewalk.

“Not far,” Ty said. They walked a few blocks over until they reached a popular restaurant that had recently won some culinary awards. It was very nice, and very expensive, and suddenly Zane had a horrible thought. He clutched Ty’s arm, “Jesus, Ty, you’re not planning to propose again, are you?”

Ty stopped in the middle of opening the door for Zane. “Nice to know the thought fills you with such horror,” he said drily.

Zane realized how that had sounded, and he felt himself flushing red to the tips of his ears. “Oh, God, Ty, I’m sorry,” he babbled. “I just don’t think we’re ready yet and –“

“Relax, darlin’,” Ty said, shaking his head. “I would never put you on the spot like that, in a public place. But at least I know how you _really_ feel about the prospect.” He put on a mournful face and Zane pinched his arm.

“Stop,” he hissed. “I’m sorry. I just thought for a second that maybe you’d planned this whole thing and –“

“Relax,” Ty repeated. “I just wanted to take you out for a nice dinner, show you off.” He leered a little, and Zane did relax, taking Ty’s hand again and giving his fingers a squeeze. As the maître d led them to their table, Zane rested his hand on the small of Ty’s back, enjoying being able to finally be _out_ with his lover for the world to see, and fuck anybody that didn’t approve.

“If you pull my chair out for me, I’ll kick your ass,” Ty muttered, and Zane grinned.

“The thought _had_ crossed my mind,” he teased.

Ty gave him a glare, then pulled his own chair out pointedly and sat down with a plop. The table for two was in an intimate corner at the back of the restaurant, and a solicitous waiter was at their elbow in seconds, introducing himself and inquiring what they’d like to drink.

“A bottle of your finest sparkling water, Martin, if you please,” Ty said, winking at Zane.

“Very good, sir,” Martin said without batting an eyelash, and disappeared. Zane snorted.

“You’re in rare form tonight, baby,” he said.

Ty reached across the table and took Zane’s hand, lacing their fingers together and stroking Zane’s wrist with his thumb.

“I’m just happy to be home, with you, and I don’t know if I’ve shown you that enough,” Ty said quietly. 

Zane squeezed his fingers, and Ty continued, “I’ve really been wallowing this past week, and I’m sorry.”

“You’re entitled to wallow for a bit, Ty,” Zane said gently. “I understood, baby, believe me, I did.”

“Last night, I –“ Ty broke off as Martin re-appeared with crystal goblets of sparkling water with lemon, and he spent a few minutes going over the house specialties and finally left again armed with their orders.

“Last night, you –“ Zane prompted, and Ty took his hand again.

“Last night I could have easily lost you, with what I said about – about Ryan, and then my subsequent ugly meltdown,” he said with difficulty. Zane was silent, letting him get this out. “The whole time I was walking around and then sitting in the pub, I was kicking myself for leaving you at home, for giving you the opportunity to think, ‘Fuck this shit,’ and leave. I was so afraid I’d get home and find Deuce there waiting to tell me that you’d left me. 

And then I got home from the pub, and you were waiting there in bed for me like nothing had happened, and you kissed me and –“ he broke off, blinking rapidly. Zane stroked his wrist soothingly.

“And I realized, for the first time _truly_ realized, how much you love me,” Ty said almost wonderingly. “It hit me like a ton of bricks, that after what I put you through last night, you were still there waiting for me. And when you fell asleep, I made a fucking promise to myself that I would never, ever put you through anything like that again. Whatever it takes, Zane, _whatever_ it takes, I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I made an appointment at the VA today for counseling.”

Zane’s eyes widened, and his hand tightened involuntarily on Ty’s.

“It’s not fair to Deuce to have to shoulder my burdens, or for you to feel like you’re floundering in the dark, wondering how to deal with stuff you would have no idea how to deal with. That’s no quality of life for you, for us, and you don’t deserve that. Because, you see, I love you so much that I ache with it, Zane. I never want to see that look I saw on your face last night again, a look that was there because of me.”

Now Zane was the one blinking rapidly. Ty lifted Zane’s fingers to his mouth and kissed them, and Zane leaned forward, his voice thick, “If you asked me to marry you, baby, right now, I would have a very different answer.”

Ty’s smile was rueful, but his eyes were warm. “This time it’s my turn to say ‘no,’” he said softly. “I want to come to you, as your husband, as a better man than what I am right now.”

Zane opened his mouth to argue, and Ty squeezed his fingers to stop him, “Because I saw almost that same look on your face in New Orleans, and we still have to deal with that. But the difference is that now I’m not _afraid_ to deal with that. You understand?”

Zane nodded.

“You’ve told me over and over that you’re not going anywhere, and now, after last night, I finally believe it. What a concept.” Ty shook his head. “After we get back from Deuce’s wedding, I’m starting the counseling, and things are going to be different.”

Zane wanted to say more, but Martin appeared with their meals and they reluctantly let go of each other, their eyes speaking volumes. The food was excellent, and Zane enjoyed every bite, enjoying even more the happiness on Ty’s face, the way his eyes glowed with new resolve. Zane recognized that resolve, that resolve to change, to get better, to take control back from things that had been allowed to take control. It was a beginning.

As they waited for their dessert and Zane’s coffee, Zane leaned forward and asked softly, “How did it go today talking to Deuce? Were you okay being around Amelia?”

Ty ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily. “When Deuce told me he wanted to drive down and bring Amelia, I thought I could handle it. I kept telling myself over and over that Amelia’s not the little girl that I saw – well, that I saw. That morning before they got here, I repeated that to myself, “It’s not her, idiot,” and I was doing everything I could think of to keep those other thoughts at bay.”

Zane remembered the frantic cleaning, and even more frantic blowjob. 

“Then when they first got there and Amelia was crying, the way her face looked, the way she was throwing herself around in Deuce’s arms –“ he shuddered. “Jesus.”

Zane reached his hand out and grasped Ty’s arm. “Stop, Ty. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“No, it’s okay. I need to talk about it.”

Zane left his hand in place on Ty’s forearm, and nodded encouragingly.

“So this morning after you left for work, I hid in the bedroom as long as I could and then I went downstairs. Amelia was in her high chair eating breakfast, and I took one look at her and started to panic. Deuce came over and he put his arm around me and said, ‘Try just being in the room with her. You don’t have to look at her, but just be in the room.’ So I stood at the sink with my back to her, and just listened to Deuce talking and interacting with her, the sounds of her eating and babbling. I kept taking those deep breaths you taught me, which helped a lot. Livi is the shit, man.”

“She is,” Zane agreed, smiling. “Have you had that extreme reaction to other kids that you’ve been around since it happened?”

“I haven’t been around any since then, not really. Our mission parameters changed after that village was compromised, and I didn’t have any more contact with civilians. Then on our way back to the States, we were in a military transport plane, which I’ve been thanking fuck for that. If I’d been in a commercial airliner, and there was a screaming baby – I probably would have brought down the whole fucking plane.” Ty’s voice was grim, no amusement evident. “Or at the very least been arrested for terroristic threats or some such shit, because I would have tried to open the doors and jump out.”

He shuddered again, and Zane patted his arm comfortingly. Just then Martin arrived with thick pieces of cheesecake and Zane’s cup of coffee, and they savored their dessert, not speaking. Finally Ty pushed his plate away with a groan, “Shit, I’m not used to eating like this anymore.”

Zane finished his coffee, saying, “Can you tell me more about your day?”

Ty wadded his cloth napkin up and placed it beside his dessert plate. “I’ll tell you while we walk back, okay?” He signaled for the check and paid, and they made their way out of the restaurant into the brisk evening air. Zane wrapped his arm around Ty’s shoulders and pulled him close, loving the way Ty slipped his arm around his waist in return, hooking his thumb in Zane’s belt loop. They ambled along, hips bumping together.

“I pretty much spent the whole day with my back to my baby niece,” Ty said ruefully. “But after her nap, I was able to sit in the living room and watch her play for a little while. Deuce was careful to keep her away from me, telling her she needed to kiss my picture right now because Uncle Ty was too tired for kisses and hugs. He kept making yawning noises and putting his head down on his arms, ‘Too tired for kisses.’ Ty snorted. “He sounded like an idiot, but it worked, she kept away from me. And I was happy that I was able to at least look at her. Deuce called it ‘inoculation therapy,’ said that if I ease into it and inoculate myself with being around her, it will get easier with time. At least with her. Other kids –“

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Zane said, leaning down to kiss Ty’s temple. “One thing at a time, okay?”

“When I told Deuce that I had called the VA, you should have seen him slump with relief,” Ty murmured.

“Ty, he would have done whatever it took to help you,” Zane said, tightening his arm across Ty’s shoulders. “We all would.”

“I know,” Ty said softly. “I know.”

****

The next morning Zane carried Amelia’s crib and high chair out to the SUV for Deuce, who was gathering up Amelia’s toys and making sure he had everything. Ty had stayed upstairs through breakfast, and Zane didn’t push it, knowing that some days would be better than others.

“So we’ll see you in a week or so,” Deuce said, as he picked Amelia up and propped her on his hip.

“We’ll be there,” Zane assured him.

“We’re going to have a nanny for Amelia and the other kids, and hopefully it shouldn’t be a problem for Ty,” Deuce said.

Zane held out his arms for his little niece, and she giggled as she flung herself at him. He lifted her over his head, then brought her down into a big hug.

“Love you, punkin’,” he said, kissing her cheek with a loud smack. She giggled again and gave him a big sloppy kiss of her own.

“Can I have one of those?”

Zane turned around to see Ty at the bottom of the steps, and there was determination on his face as he came forward. Amelia watched him solemnly, and then she gave an exaggerated yawn as she looked at her daddy, then back to Ty.

Deuce’s eyes shone with emotion, but he managed to say, “Maybe Uncle Ty isn’t too tired for kisses today, sweetheart.”

Ty leaned close, and she reached out her chubby little hands and pressed them to Ty’s cheeks, squeezing until his lips pursed out. Then she leaned forward and planted a kiss right on them. Ty was pale and clammy, but his smile was genuine as he said, “Thanks, darlin’.” He smoothed his hand over her hair and then stepped back, a faint smile of triumph on his face.

Zane handed Amelia to Deuce, then turned and took Ty into his arms.

“Well done, baby,” he whispered, kissing Ty’s temple and hugging him close. “You’ll be okay.”

“See you in Scotland, Amelia,” Ty waggled his fingers at her, and she buried her face in Deuce’s neck and wouldn’t look at him, suddenly shy.

“Maybe she’s decided she liked me better in the picture,” Ty said wryly. “I hope she’s not scared of me now.”

Zane hugged him again, and they walked father and daughter out to the car and stood arm in arm as they watched them drive away.

“You need to get to work,” Ty said, reaching down and giving Zane’s ass a pinch.

“Yeah?” Zane breathed. “And what will you be doing?”

“This and that,” Ty said mysteriously. “I have some research I want to do.” Zane thought suddenly of walking in on Ty at the computer earlier, seeing him hastily X’ing out what looked like a real estate website. He didn’t have any idea what his lover was up to, but whatever it was, it had made his eyes sparkle, and Zane was all for it.

“See you tonight, gorgeous,” he murmured, kissing Ty good-bye soundly, then moving off to his truck and climbing in. “Stay out of trouble.”

Ty winked at him, and Zane didn’t even try to suppress the goofy grin that spread over his face as he pulled away from the curb and drove down the street. 

Life was good.


End file.
